Retreat
by Darkalley29
Summary: Post Season 11. Olivia and Elliot's plans to spend a romantic week in Aruba are ruined when they stumble onto a case that neither of them can let go.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own SVU or its characters. They are the property of Dick Wolf.

**Chapter 1 – Vacations are for Homicide Wimps **

_May 24, 2010 12:43 am_

No matter how fast she ran, she couldn't catch up.

She could see the perp, no more than 6 feet in front of her. His legs were pumping, the heels of his white running shoes a blur as they slapped heavily against the pavement. Her own heart thumped like a drum in her chest, her lungs burning from the cold air she sucked in to oxygenate her body, her thighs throbbing from the bruising impact of her feet thudding against the sidewalk. She deftly skirted garbage bags and dodged debris, block after block flying by, her body starting to protest with each step. Instinctively, she knew he must be tiring too. If she could just hang in there a bit longer . . . Yet he still managed to stay an aggravating 6 feet ahead of her, slightly out of reach. She pushed herself harder and harder, but couldn't close the distance. It was like chasing a ghost; close, but untouchable.

Three blocks later, fatigue was really setting in, despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her fear that the gap would widen if she slowed was all that drove her. She couldn't, wouldn't, let him get away. As if sensing her exhaustion, the perp made a sudden move, darting out through two parked cars and slipping out into the rain soaked street. The night cloaked the dark bumper of the black Mercedes parked along the street beside her. When she moved to follow the perp, she clipped her knee against it.

Letting out a small curse, she limped out into the street, slowing her pace only slightly. The pain in her knee distracted her just enough to prevent her from seeing the danger: headlights of an oncoming vehicle. She had only a second to react, her arms flying up impotently to protect her head. The grill of the car struck the side of her right thigh amid the eardrum-shattering squeal of brakes. She crashed onto the hood and rolled upward, her arm smashing through the unforgiving glass of the windshield.

"Liv."

The feeling of a hand on her shoulder jolted Olivia awake. She shot back in her chair, heart pounding, hands gripping the arms of her chair so hard her knuckles turned white, her eyes wide and wild, breathing erratically. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim light of the squad room and for her brain to process the fact that the headlights she could still see in her mind's eye were just part of a dream. When her body finally relaxed and her breathing became more controlled, she noticed Elliot standing off to the side, hands raised in surrender.

"Jesus Elliot!," Olivia breathed, hand flying to her abdomen. She shook her head, trying to clear out the cobwebs before looking back up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." Elliot didn't smile as he dropped his hands and took several steps toward her. His voice was soft as his eyes scanned her face. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Liv looked around, fully absorbing her surroundings for the first time. The squad room was empty, lit only by a few desk lamps left on by the desk's occupants, who had long gone home for the evening. Papers were scattered around her desk, and she suddenly remember the final paperwork she had been completing for the case they solved the previous afternoon. She had lay her head down, just for a second, around 11, swearing to herself that she would finish the paperwork before she headed home for the weekend. A quick glance at the clock told her it was now almost 1 am. "I was finishing some stuff up for a case. Guess I dozed off."

Elliot reached forward and gently peeled a damp strand of hair away from Liv's forehead. "You're soaked in sweat. You must have been having a hell of a dream."

"Yeah." Liv took in a deep breath and felt more like herself. She smiled warmly at her former partner and current boyfriend. "So I repeat, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be on vacation for two weeks, spending time with the kids."

"I was. Kathy's new boyfriend rented a cottage for the weekend, she asked that I drop the kids off a bit early so they can all go up together. We traded, I will have them for another week in a couple months."

"That's good." Looking into his blue eyes, Olivia fought the urge to tell him she had missed him. Although it was the truth, it didn't seem the time or place. Although they weren't partners anymore, the invisible force in the 1-6 that had kept them from expressing their feelings for 11 years was still strong. He must have felt it too, because he didn't make a move to hug or kiss her, even though they were alone. Instead, he walked around her and let his fingertips slide across the smooth wood of the desk immediately across from hers - his old desk. A desk that was now littered with Fin's papers and personal effects.

"I tried to call you after I dropped off the kids. You weren't answering at home or your cell. Called Fin, he said you guys caught a brutal case this week. Parents pimping out their six daughters and one son. Ended in a murder suicide once you caught up with 'em."

"Yeah." Olivia blew out a sigh, closed her eyes, and ran her hands through her mahogany hair. "It was bad." She waved at the paperwork spread across her desk as she scooted her chair forward. "I was just trying to finish up the paperwork for it before calling it a night."

Elliot sat down in Fin's chair and gazed at her across the desks. "You look exhausted Liv. It's 1 am. Time to call it a night. Paperwork will still be there tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." Olivia rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I just want to put this behind me."

Elliot reached across the desks and touched Olivia's hand, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. "You need to take a break Liv. And I don't just mean tonight. When's the last time you took some time off? It's time for you to take a vacation."

Shaking her head, Liv pulled away and stood up. She moved over to the file cabinet, pulled out a drawer, and began rifling through it. "Vacations are for Homicide wimps," she teased him, smiling genuinely but tiredly over the files.

Elliot shot her his trademark quirky smile as he stood up, moving over to stand beside her. "You're stubborn," he whispered, leaning over and dropping a light kiss in her hair. "Don't stay too much longer. Call me tomorrow."

Three hours later, Olivia finally dropped a fistful of papers onto Cragen's desk. Her eyes burned from hours of staring at a glowing computer screen and her fingers ached from the steady typing. Every bone in her body felt heavy and mentally she was just as exhausted. As if on auto-pilot, she walked mindlessly back into the locker room and entered the combination to her lock. She stopped for a moment, resting her forehead on the cool metal. At this rate, she was going to fall asleep in the cab on the way home.

With a sigh, Olivia straightened and pulled her locker door open. A heavy, brochure-shaped folder fell out, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Groaning, she bent to pick it up, her sore back complaining all the way down. The outside of the small folder was smooth and glossy, and she could feel two thinner pieces of paper tucked into it. When her tired eyes adjusted and she was able to read it, she felt a rush of warmth and happiness flush her face. It wasn't a brochure. Tucked into the holder was a pair of airline tickets for a flight to Aruba, leaving the day after tomorrow. Attached to the ticket holder was a sticky note bearing Elliot's scrawl. The question written there made her smile and fall deeper in love than she had ever thought possible:

"Go away with me?"


	2. Who else would put up with ya?

**Chapter 2 – Who else would put up with ya?**

_May 26, 2010 1:00 pm (Aruba time)_

Olivia was asleep almost as soon as the seatbelt sign went off.

The wait at JFK had been painfully long. There were very few direct flights to Aruba from JFK and the waiting area past customs was packed with people willing to pay a bit more to arrive in Aruba in five hours compared to the nineteen it would take on a less direct flight. The mass of bodies made the seating area hot and its occupants correspondingly irritable. To make matters worse, the flight had been delayed several hours for a reason no one seemed willing or able to articulate.

Elliot had felt his patience unraveling and his exasperation growing exponentially with each passing minute. He lost count of the number of times someone stepped on his feet and the lady beside him elbowed his side when she turned to talk to her travelling companion, seated on the bench behind her. He hadn't even realized his hands had closed instinctively into fists until Olivia reached over and ran her hand over his. Only then did he feel some of the tension fade away as he opened up his hand to let hers in.

Now, as the plane entered the final half hour of its voyage, Elliot felt uncharacteristically peaceful. The expanse of translucent blue water below was soothing and the sun shone brilliantly, twinkling off the white metal of the plane's wings. Murmurs of conversation filled the air around him, enveloping the cabin in an atmosphere of comfortable companionship. An old movie played on the TV in front of him, but he barely noticed. Instead, he gazed out the window, marveling at how open and clean everything seemed from this far up, especially to a man who had spent a large portion of his life in New York City. He hadn't travelled much growing up. Daytrips with his mom when she was well enough, but that was about it. Nowhere ever this beautiful. He and Kathy hadn't had the opportunity to go on a honeymoon until several years after they married - even then it was just a short trip down to Florida. Money had always been tight, especially as more kids were added to the family. Travelling was a luxury they just couldn't afford.

Now that most of his children were older, even with support payments, Elliot was surprised how much money he had been able to save. He had been considering putting the excess cash toward a set of workout machines for his spare bedroom, but one day, when they were curled up together watching a movie, Olivia had commented on how much she would love to escape for a while, leave the job behind and recharge. In that instant, he had known exactly what he was going to do with the saved money. It was just a matter of finding the right time.

Thoughts of Olivia drew his attention away from the beautiful scenery outside to the equally beautiful woman asleep beside him. She lay on her side in her seat, her knees tucked up, her head resting on his shoulder, her chest rising and falling peacefully. Her hair had slipped in front of her eyes and her hand rested lightly on his arm. She had fallen asleep quickly and barely moved for most of the flight, exhausted from the busy week before. Careful not to wake her, he turned his head and let his nose rest in her hair, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating scent. At that moment, she exuded a vulnerability that he only ever saw when she slept and when they were intimate. Most of the time, she intentionally and convincingly exuded strength. Now, her hair smelled like raspberries and her face was peaceful and unlined as she slept. As he pressed a kiss on the top of her head, he wondered for the millionth time why they had fought the inevitable for as long as they did; why they ever thought the magnetic attraction between them would dissipate, despite marital status and even with time and distance. They were soul mates. That is not something that you can run from.

Only when the captain's voice crackled over the intercom to inform passengers they would shortly be starting their descent into Reina Beatrix Airport in Aruba did Olivia stir, lifting her head from Elliot's shoulder and blinking her chocolate brown eyes in the light.

"We there?" Her voice was laced with sleep as she squinted out the small window and brushed the hair out of her eyes.

"Just about. You sleep well?"

"Yeah, amazing." Olivia stretched and twisted in her seat, working out the kinks before turning her attention back to Elliot. Her eyes scanned his face for a moment before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He returned it, burying his face in her hair and softly kissing the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes and relishing the feeling of his strong arms around her. After a moment she pulled away, aware of his distaste for public displays of affection. Settling back in her seat, she shot him a wide, happy smile. To Elliot, that smile was equivalent in impact to a punch in the gut, except pleasurable. He felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as it sometimes did when she caught him full-on with one of her incredible smiles.

"For what?" Elliot asked, his voice a bit raspy and strangled. He cleared his throat and cursed himself for sounding like a lovesick teenager.

"For this." Olivia motioned to the beautiful view outside. "For taking me away from it all. For knowing better than I do what I really need to stay sane."

In an effort to hide the effect she had on him, Elliot waved her thanks away. "We were partners for 11 years, and now we've moved on to a different kind of partnership. If I didn't know you better than you know yourself by now, it wouldn't say much for me."

Mentally, Elliot slapped his forehead. He sounded like an idiot. Was he even making sense? Regardless, when he saw the happy look in Olivia's liquid eyes, he knew he must have said something right.

"Still. Thank you." Liv leaned forward and softly kissed him. When she drew back, he could feel the words dancing on the tip of his tongue. The words he had never said to her – not once in the 12 years they had been together in one form or another. Words that he felt with all his heart, but choked on because they seemed so understated, so insufficient to describe how he really felt. Elliot had never been good with his emotions - experiencing them or expressing them. It was almost painful to feel the words, pressing against the walls of his heart, but trapped there.

To cover his internal struggle, Elliot flashed Olivia a mischievous grin.

"Besides, who else would put up with ya?"

Even with his good reflexes, Elliot wasn't able to dodge the packet of airline peanuts that she launched with a smile at his head.


	3. I'm already there

**Chapter 3 – I'm already there **

_May 26, 2010 5:54 pm_

If there was ever a time she felt more serene, she couldn't remember it.

As the late afternoon sun crawled slowly across the sky, Olivia stood facing the endless ocean, her feet sinking softly into the creamy white sand that bordered the water for as far as the eye could see. Eyes closed beneath her brown sunglasses, she tilted her head toward the sun, absorbing all that the slowly fading orb had to offer. The weakening rays caressed her face and ran over her shoulders before spreading warmth throughout her body. She could feel her already golden skin taking on a deep coppery hue outside the confines of her maroon halter-style bikini.

The ocean water lapped lazily at her feet, its coolness creating a wonderful contrast against her warm skin before it ebbed away momentarily, only to return with the next wave. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on all her other senses, eager to take in the entire experience. The surrounding air smelled of the ocean, mixed with faint overtones of her suntan lotion. The crash of waves farther out at sea carried effortlessly to shore, creating a steady, low-intensity rumble that was pierced occasionally by the call of seabirds or the laughter of children playing in the swells.

"That bathing suit looks every bit as amazing from the back as it does from the front." Elliot's deep voice carried over the ocean noise - a welcome sound that made Olivia grin involuntarily. Opening her eyes, she turned to watch him approach, a drink in each hand and an appreciative grin on his face.

"Are you checking out my ass Stabler?"

"Absolutely," Elliot chuckled, holding out a drink as a peace offering. "Along with every other man on this beach."

Rolling her eyes, Olivia took the drink from him, enjoying a long sip before turning her attention back to the ocean. The frosty daiquiri tasted wonderful as it slid down her parched throat. She could tell the daiquiris here would be addictive. She made a mental note not to enjoy too many of them tonight. She wanted to clearly remember every moment of their first night in this tropical paradise.

"The men aren't the only ones with hungry eyes. There are a lot of women on this beach right now imagining what you look like without those swim trunks on," she teased.

"Are you one of those women?"

"No." Olivia took another sip and smiled at him evilly, letting her eyes trace slowly down his body, drinking in his defined chest, his muscled arms, and his strong abs. "I don't need to imagine. I _know_ what you look like without those swim trucks on."

Elliot chuckled again, taking a long swig of his beer as he turned to look out at the ocean. Olivia leaned over and wrapped her arm around his waist, squeezing gently and resting her head against him as they looked out over the glimmering water together.

"It's so beautiful here," Olivia sighed, closing her eyes again and inhaling the salty ocean breeze.

"It's not as beautiful as you."

"Seriously Elliot!" Despite the telltale fluttering in her heart, Olivia pulled away and playfully shoved him, dropping her free hand to her hip. "Aren't you just full of corny pick-up lines? Look, I'll save you some stress. You will be getting laid tonight, guaranteed. You don't need to suck up to me."

Elliot laughed and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Classy, Benson! I wasn't sucking up to you though." He reached over and tugged gently on her small ponytail. "You are beautiful. Strong and beautiful."

Olivia shook her head and rolled her eyes, but felt her heart thumping with pleasure at his compliment. Elliot didn't hand them out often. In that moment, she longed to open up to him entirely, to let him know how much he really meant to her, but it was too early. He and Kathy had been officially divorced for less than half a year. She knew Catholic guilt still flowed through his veins from that, and that this guilt was compounded by some of their recent activities outside of wedlock. Telling him that she loved him would be too much pressure on him, too soon. She was confident that deep down he knew it, and she was content to wait patiently until he was ready to hear it.

Stretching out her leg, Olivia lazily dragged a toe through the soft wet sand, creating a trench that quickly filled with water and melted away. The sun continued its slow descent toward the horizon and on the beach people were starting to pack up their belongings and head back to the resort for dinner.

Slipping her hand contently into Elliot's, Olivia sighed loudly. "I think it's a safe bet that by the end of the week, I am not going to want to go back home."

Squeezing her hand softly, Elliot took a final drag of his beer and curled his toes down into the sand. "I know Liv. I'm already there."


	4. You Get Me

A/N – Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I appreciate your feedback. It keeps me writing. As promised, there will be a case woven in here soon, within the next couple of chapters. If there is anything you would like to see happen, please share your thoughts and ideas. I have an idea where I am going, but I enjoy weaving other pieces in as well if requested.

**Chapter 4 – You Get Me **

_May 26, 2010 8:14 pm_

"Liv, Babe, I'm starvin'!"

Elliot stood in front of the full length mirror that adorned the foyer wall, buttoning the final two buttons on his crisp blue dress shirt. After giving himself a final once over, he decided he looked too stuffy and undid one of the buttons. Good enough. Straightening his khaki shorts and sliding his feet into a pair of sandals, he glanced toward the washroom where Olivia had been getting ready for the last 20 minutes. "You almost ready?"

"Just about. Give me another minute. Patience is a virtue you know." Olivia's voice carried into the bedroom over the sound of running water.

"Yeah, but not one I possess." Elliot flopped down on the soft king-size bed, leaning back on his elbows and staring out the French doors that filled most of one side of their room. The sun had just settled below the horizon and the room was splashed in a soft orange glow. The ocean remained restless beyond the beach, the white swells dyed amber in the fading light. The air was still warm and the breeze tickled the wind chimes that hung on the balcony, generating a sweet, soothing melody.

The beauty of the beach was rivaled in some respects by the beauty of the resort room. The walls were swathed in a high-quality cream paint that complimented the solid oak furniture and patterned love seat. The large French doors had gold handles and pastel green curtains. The king size bed was covered in a mosaic comforter and topped with soft feather pillows. The washroom was a good size, its countertops marble, fixtures shiny silver, with a frosted shower stall and a Jacuzzi tub. The decorations were sparse and tasteful.

"Sometimes I wish I was a guy."Olivia exited the washroom suddenly, adjusting an earring with one hand and hopping agilely on one foot while sliding on one of her heels. Elliot turned to respond but instantly felt at a loss for coherent words when he caught sight of her. Olivia looked absolutely amazing. She was clad in a black dress that fell to her knees and clung to her curves in all the right places. Her matching heels flattered her long, shapely legs and her hair fell straight and shiny to just past her shoulders. Her makeup was natural and her lips were frosted with pink gloss. She kept talking as she stood in front of the mirror, wiggling her dress down over her hips, but Elliot had no idea what she was saying. He was entranced by her movements. He had always thought she looked gorgeous in her usual work attire of jeans and a dress shirt. Dressed up, she was heart stopping.

"El?" Olivia looked confused as she walked toward him, watching his face carefully.

"Uh, yeah?" Elliot mentally gave his head a shake.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Uhh, to be honest, no." Olivia put her hands on her hips while Elliot chuckled. "Sorry, I was a little distracted."

"Am I boring you?"

"No, no, no." Elliot quickly backtracked, grabbing Olivia's hand and pulling her to stand between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. He slid his hands over her knees before allowing them to travel up the outside of her thighs, over her hips, and up to rub over her backside appreciatively. "You aren't boring me at all. It's just that you look unbelievable. Wow."

"You ready for dinner?" Olivia smiled and reached down absently, undoing another of the buttons on his dress shirt and fixing his collar.

"Actually, I'm not really that hungry all of a sudden." One of his hands travelled further up, caressing her lower back and making her shiver.

"Why not? You just spent the last 10 minutes complaining about how hungry you are." Olivia feigned annoyance, dropping her hand down to the hip that his hand wasn't already occupying.

"Well, other needs have suddenly become more pressing." His hand snaked around to the front of her dress, tracing over her belly, and following the curves back to her hip.

"Hold that thought." Olivia reversed slightly, just out of his reach. Groaning, Elliot dropped back on his elbows and sucked in a deep breath. "We have all night for other things. If we don't eat before the restaurant closes, we won't have the energy for anything else." Olivia looked in the mirror once more before grabbing the handle on the door, opening it, and looking back at him expectantly.

With a sigh, Elliot heaved himself off the bed, shoved the room key in his pocket, and followed her out the door. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me yet."

* * *

The resort's a la carte restaurant was jammed with people. The décor paid homage to the island's tropical flavor, with palm ferns covering the ceiling and sandy-colored floor tiling. Booths lined the outside of the restaurant while tables sat scattered around the inside. All of the furniture was cut from beautiful mahogany and the tables were decorated with brightly colored cloths and utensils. The huge windows looked out onto the darkening beach and patio lanterns shone from the outside eaves.

The maitre d' greeted Elliot and Olivia enthusiastically and, despite the fact all the seats appeared to be full, assured them a table would be available momentarily. He was true to his word. After only several minutes of waiting, the maitre d' called for the host. A young boy, no older than 13, appeared with a welcoming smile and requested they follow him to their table. To Olivia's amusement, he handed her a rose and offered her his arm. She took both with a smile, shooting a smarmy glance back at Elliot, who looked equally as amused by the young boy's confidence.

"Take notes Stabler," Olivia teased, earning a chuckle from her lover. The young host led them back to a medium-sized U-shaped booth in a far corner of the restaurant and provided them with menus. He introduced himself as Carlos in clear but accented English, thanked them for staying at the resort, and then disappeared between the crowded tables.

After agonizing over the menu for 10 minutes, both Olivia and Elliot decided on traditional local fare and placed their orders with their waitress. When their drinks arrived, Olivia held up hers in celebration.

"Here's to a wonderful, relaxing week away."

Smiling, Elliot clinked his glass with hers. "Cheers."

As they toasted the moment, Elliot felt a lump forming in his throat. In the soft lighting, Olivia looked devastatingly beautiful. He watched her closely, sitting peacefully and observing the room like the amazing detective she was. Instinctively, he knew that this moment would be the perfect time to tell her how he felt. Slowly, he draped an arm around the back of the booth and turned slightly to face her, clearing his throat. She turned to look at him, a sparkle of happiness visible in her eyes.

"Liv . . .," he started, but felt his throat close up almost instantly. He tried clearing his throat again, but it didn't help. His mind was working a mile a minute but his mouth was not keeping up.

"El . . .," she teased, raising her eyebrows at him and letting her hand drop down to his knee. "Still having trouble concentrating?"

"Yes . . . no . . . .." Good Lord, get a grip Stabler, he chastised himself. This was Liv. His best friend, his partner for over 11 years. She knew all there was to know about him, good and bad. He had loved her long before they had officially become a couple. Still, he couldn't get the words out.

Inhaling deeply, Elliot took a strand of Olivia's soft hair between his fingers and tucked it gently behind her ear. She looked him in the eyes and he felt his words get lost again in her deep brown irises. After a moment of listening to him fumble for words, Olivia's brows creased with worry.

"El? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just . . . .uh . . . .well, I just wanted to make sure you were having a good time. I mean, I know I sprung this trip on you, and I didn't want you to feel like you had to go, I-". Olivia silenced him by putting a finger over his lips, blissfully halting his incessant babbling.

"El, this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me." Olivia leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth, closing her eyes and losing herself in the sensations. He tasted incredible. Like sweet fruit dipped in chocolate. Her hands slid up to cup his face just as his hands slid into her hair. After a moment, they broke apart to breathe, and Olivia trailed a finger down his chin and across his strong jaw.

It was time.

"Liv . ..," he began again, this time feeling more confident. "You . . . You get me. Something that Kathy never did, something she never could have, in fairness to her. We have been through so much together. And I just . . ." Come on Stabler, Elliot urged himself. It's only three words. Just spit it out.

"I-"

"Excuse me Sir, Ma'am." A voice over Olivia's left shoulder cut abruptly into their conversation. Both Olivia and Elliot's heads snapped around, startled, to find Carlos, the young host, hovering to the left of their booth. Behind him stood an attractive couple, looking decidedly uncomfortable and painfully apologetic.

"Yes?" The words came out sharper than Elliot intended and Olivia flashed him a look that implored him to behave.

The young host shifted his weight uncomfortably but held his ground. "Due to the high volume of visitors tonight, we are having trouble finding enough tables. We are trying really hard to accommodate everyone." Carlos swallowed visibly before continuing. "We were hoping, if it is not too much of an imposition, that Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse could join you at your table."


	5. What happens in Aruba

**Chapter 5 – What happens in Aruba . . . **

_May 26, 2010 10:34 pm_

It wasn't as bad as Elliot thought it would be.

His immediate reaction had been to tell the young host where to go, but luckily Olivia had spoken first, assuring the couple it would be no imposition at all before dropping a calming hand onto Elliot's leg. "It's just for dinner," she had mouthed to him as the couple slid gratefully into the booth beside them.

It took awhile, but eventually Elliot came around. Once his initial annoyance at the interruption had waned, he actually found himself relaxing and opening up to the experience. The Roundhouses, Chad and Harmony, were quite a pleasant couple. Chad, the more gregarious of the two, had a deep baritone voice, short curly hair, and an infectious laugh. Harmony was more soft-spoken, with fiery red hair, a peaches and cream complexion, and kind eyes. They too had flown in from the US, arriving a day earlier than Elliot and Olivia and planning to stay for a week longer. Back in their native Los Angeles, Chad worked as a recruiter for a talent management firm and Harmony was a nurse in a small retirement village. Their apologies for intruding were profuse, but Olivia, ever the peacekeeper, repeatedly assured them it was no problem. She seemed to be enjoying their company, and although Elliot would have preferred to be alone with Olivia, he kept his mouth shut. As long as she was happy, he would deal with it. Chad was a good conversationalist at least. While the girls chatted amiably about the beauty of the island, he and Elliot talked easily about sports and the trials and tribulations of living in big cities. Even the silence was companionable when their meals finally arrived and everyone dug in enthusiastically. The food was delicious and, despite his initial irritation, Elliot found himself enjoying the evening.

After they had finished eating and the table had been cleared, the ladies disappeared to the restroom and the guys settled down for an after dinner beer.

"This your first time visiting the island?" Chad's brows were furrowed in concentration as he poured his beer into a draft glass.

Before answering, Elliot took a long sip out of his glass, enjoying the cold, crisp flavor as it flowed down his throat. "Yeah, it is. Yours?"

"No, I travel here quite a bit actually, usually on business. It is Harmony's first time though. I just love this island so much I wanted to show it to her." Chad took a long gulp of his beer before setting his glass back on the table with a satisfied grunt. "Elliot, man, there is a hell of a lot of attractive female talent on this island, waiting to be discovered. And they will do anything to be discovered, if you get my drift!"

Chad laughed and Elliot smiled politely, feeling a small swell of dislike rise in his stomach. He tried to push it aside with some success. Chad was obviously playing the role of a "typical guy". He couldn't possibly know that, after years of working in SVU and having to deal with cheaters and perverts, Elliot found such comments reprehensible. He liked Harmony and disliked the insinuation that Chad would cheat on her, especially after eight years of marriage.

" - firm pays for them to travel to L.A., do a screen test." Suddenly noting that Chad was still talking, Elliot took a sip of his beer and tuned back in.

"Wow, that's pretty generous. What happens if the person doesn't make the cut and isn't signed by your firm?"

Chad shrugged, leaning back in the booth and yawning. "I dunno, not my area of concern. I guess they send them back home. So what about you? You never did say what you do for a living."

Elliot thought carefully before answering. Revealing he was a homicide detective often led to a request for gruesome stories that he never really felt like sharing. Deliberately vague, Elliot answered "I work for the New York State Division of Criminal Justice Services. Liv too."

"That how you two met?"

"Yeah. We worked in the same office for a bit."

"My ears are burning." Olivia smiled lightly at Elliot as she and Harmony returned from the restroom and slid into the booth beside their respective significant others. Feeling affectionate, Olivia snuggled into Elliot's side and rested her head against the arm he had slung around the back of the booth. He dropped his fingers down and lightly brushed her bangs out of her face while returning her smile.

"You two are so cute together," beamed Harmony, smiling widely and wistfully. "It's obvious you adore each other. I can't believe you've only been dating for four months! You are so natural and comfortable together it seems like you have been dating forever!"

Olivia squeezed Elliot's knee lovingly and they shared a secretive smile. "Well, we've known each other a lot longer," Olivia admitted. "Just took us a while to figure out what we had here."

"You have any kids?"

"Not together, not yet." Elliot's answer caught Olivia completely off guard. Her eyes shot up to his face, but he was looking across the table at Harmony and Chad and didn't notice. Having children was not something they had discussed before. She had always assumed that he was happy with the number of children he had and, given her age, she doubted having children naturally was even an option. To cover her surprise, she began picking at an imaginary piece of lint on her dress as Elliot continued. "But I have five from a previous relationship."

"Aww, that's so sweet! ," gushed Harmony. "How old are they?"

Olivia suddenly stood up, feeling a pressing need to escape and think, to process what Elliot had just said. Was he really considering having children with her? Did she dare to dream? Realizing that the conversation had stopped in its tracks and that everyone was looking at her, Olivia fake smiled brightly.

"While you fill them in on your wonderful kids El, I'm going to grab one more drink. Did you want anything while I'm up?"

Elliot looked at her curiously for a moment before answering. "Sure, if you wouldn't mind grabbing me another beer, that would be great. Thanks Liv."

"I think I'll grab another one too, did you want anything hon?" Chad stood up alongside Olivia and dropped his hand onto Harmony's shoulder.

"No, I'm okay sweetheart. Thank you." Harmony smiled at her husband before turning back to Elliot.

As the two remaining at the table settled into a conversation about Elliot's kids, Olivia and Chad fought their way up to the bar. The restaurant was still jam packed. Some of the tables had been cleared away to create a tiny dance floor, and the bar area was overflowing with people standing around, drinking, and watching others dance. It was a tight squeeze, but with a few well-placed elbows both Chad and Olivia managed to wiggle their way through the swarm of bodies to the bar. The bartenders were both extremely busy with orders, and Chad had to practically stick his hand in one of their faces to get their attention.

Just as Chad finished placing both his and Olivia's orders, someone bumped into Olivia from behind, hard. She flew forward and crashed directly into Chad's broad chest. He caught her instinctively, one hand grabbing her elbow and the other grabbing her hip to steady her. Straightening up, Olivia turned to shoot a dirty look at her assailant, but whomever it was had disappeared back into the crowd or was skilled at looking inconspicuous.

Realizing that Chad's hands were still on her, Olivia backed up as best she could in the mass of bodies. "Sorry Chad. Some idiot just ran into me, and then I ran into you."

"It's okay." Chad first slid his hand off her hip and then her elbow, his eyes never leaving her face. For a brief moment, Olivia felt uncomfortable, wondering if he had intentionally let his hand slip down her backside like that and if he had meant to teasingly trace the underside of her forearm with his fingers. She pushed that thought away quickly, reprimanding herself for being too sensitive. He was just making sure she was steady, like any gentleman would. Still, she struggled to meet his eyes, feeling a flush come over her face.

Sensing her discomfort, Chad put his index finger under her chin and drew her eyes up to look into his.

"Hey, are you okay?" Concern etched Chad's forehead as he moved his finger up from her chin to brush her hair out of her eyes, his fingertip lightly grazing over her forehead.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Olivia waved her hand dismissively and turned her attention back to the bar, mentally willing the bartender to hurry up. Things were way too close for comfort up by the bar. She longed to get back to the relatively roomy booth. Eager for any place to look but at Chad, she glanced across the restaurant and tried to spot Elliot. She caught sight of their booth, but it faced away from the bar and all she could make out were Elliot's shoulders and the back of his head. She felt sweat trickling down her spine from the close proximity of too many warm bodies and the uncomfortable sensation of Chad's eyes still on her.

"You know, you really are a stunningly beautiful woman." For a second, Olivia thought she had imagined the words, as her head had been turned away. When she swiveled around to look at Chad however, he was gazing at her intently.

"Uh, thanks." Olivia silently begged the bartender to hurry up. She needed to get away from all the people, get some fresh air. She was starting to think even a kind, happily married man was hitting on her. What was next, hallucinations?

"Have you ever thought about modeling?"

For a moment, Olivia stared at Chad in disbelief. Were they really having this conversation right now?

"Uh, well no. I'm a little old to model."

"Not at all! There is actually a push on in the modeling world to get older women for some ad campaigns. That is where the demographics are right now. Society wants to see real women aging beautifully. You would be perfect for that. I have connections, I could hook you up." Chad looked at her earnestly.

"Chad, thank you. I'm very flattered you think I could model, but really, I have a job that I love, and I am pretty happy with my life right now. But thank you so much for the offer." Olivia quickly averted her eyes, dropping them down to her wrist where her fingers were nervously fiddling with her gold bracelet.

"Suit yourself." Chad shrugged and turned his attention back to the activity behind the bar. Although his eyes were off her now, Olivia felt her "creep" radar, honed to perfection after many years of working in SVU, start to beep. She tried to quell it as she stared at Chad's back. Her work with Special Victims Unit was apparently making her overly suspicious. She dealt with perverts all the time, but Chad wasn't a pervert. He was just being nice. A little too nice maybe, but nice nonetheless.

The bartender slid Chad's beer across the counter and Chad tossed down a few bills as a tip before turning back toward Olivia again, beer in hand. In the crowded confines of the bar, there was no way for him to get out without squeezing past her. As he went to move past, he suddenly stopped, his body pressing lightly against hers, his mouth directly beside her ear. Olivia tensed instinctively, prepared to defend herself if necessary, but unable to move away in the close quarters surrounding the bar.

When Chad spoke, his breath tickled her ear.

"You know, my wife and I have a very open relationship. In fact, she likes to watch me with other women. What happens in Aruba stays in Aruba after all. We would love it if you would come by our room tonight. Bring Elliot. I bet he would like to watch too. Or participate. He seems to have taken a real shine to Harmony."

Olivia was so shocked at first that she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Her jaw dropped, but no words came out. All she could think to do was lean back as far away from him as possible, which wasn't very far.

When Olivia finally found her voice, the words came out laced with anger.

"No, Chad, we're not into that kind of thing. I'm sorry if we somehow gave you the wrong impression by letting you sit at our table tonight. You seem to be very nice people, but I'm very happy with Elliot, and neither he nor I would be okay with anything you just suggested."

"Okay, okay," Chad held his hands up in mock surrender and moved past her. He was almost far enough away for her to breathe when he suddenly turned and stroked Olivia's cheek softly. She jerked her head away but was not able to stop him from grabbing her wrist in the meantime. Before she had time to react, he had pressed a small keycard into the palm of her hand. "In case you change your mind. Room 128."

Dropping Olivia's hand, Chad pushed through the rest of the throng and disappeared, leaving Olivia standing by the bar, flabbergasted.

When her shock dissipated, anger took its place. She toyed with the idea of stomping back to the table, throwing Chad's keycard in his face, and telling everyone in the immediate vicinity what had just happened. That thought passed as quickly as it came though. She really didn't feel like making a scene her first night here. Elliot had gone to a lot of trouble to plan this trip, and she didn't want to ruin it. He would be furious if he found out what happened. Elliot wasn't much of a people person sometimes, but he seemed to be enjoying the Roundhouse's company. No sense in ruining what was otherwise a perfectly enjoyable evening. And really, what had Chad done so wrong? He had propositioned her, sure, but they were both adults, it wasn't as if she was a minor. His suggestion was a perfectly legal activity between consenting adults, just not her cup of tea. No, it would be best if she just kept quiet. She could handle him. She would just make it her mission to avoid them for the remainder of the week.

Pushing her way through the crowd of people, Olivia slid out into the hallway that led from the resort restaurant to the rooms, glancing around until she found what she was looking for. Purposefully, she strode over to the closest shiny silver trash receptacle and, with authority, tossed the keycard in. Satisfied, she returned to the bar, picked up her drinks, and headed back to the booth, determined to wrap up the evening as quickly as possible.


	6. Deal

**Chapter 6 – Deal**

_May 27, 2010 9:02 am_

"My God Liv. You've got to go easy on me. I'm an old man!"

Elliot collapsed onto the soft mattress beside Olivia, his chest heaving, his arms shaking, and his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The early morning sun filtered in through the thin curtains covering the French doors, the light casting the room in a soft green glow. The doors were cracked open to let in some fresh ocean air and the breeze ruffled the curtains lazily. Slowly, Elliot and Olivia untangled their sticky, sweaty limbs and lay quietly on their backs beside each other, both struggling to catch their breath. The white sheets that had covered them throughout the night lay crumpled in a pile at the foot of the bed and pillows spilled over the side and onto the floor.

"Hey, don't blame me. That last position was your idea." Olivia turned her head and grinned at Elliot shamelessly. Raising her head and wincing at the twinge in her back, she peeled the damp hair off the nape of her neck before dropping her head back down onto a corner of the only pillow left on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess it was. Wow. I can't feel my feet. You know the sex was amazing when you lose feeling in your feet and don't even notice," Elliot mused, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead. Olivia laughed and Elliot smiled at the rare sound. There wasn't much, if anything, to laugh about in their line of work. When Olivia did laugh, his heart was rocked by a wave of love and affection for her.

Once her breathing normalized, Olivia rolled onto her stomach and curled up against Elliot, resting her cheek on his warm, damp chest, her mahogany hair tickling his chin. Closing her eyes, she focused on the steady rhythm of his heart, feeling completely sated and totally relaxed. The breeze felt wonderfully refreshing on her hot skin. Lazily, she let her fingers trace circles in the small patches of soft hair on Elliot's chest and abdomen.

Inhaling deeply and closing his eyes, Elliot gently ran his fingers through her hair before dropping them lower to caress her shoulders, lightly circle her shoulder blade, and follow the track of her spine down and then back up again. She shivered slightly and cuddled closer to him, her body pressing lightly against his side. A small, self-satisfied smile played on his lips as he visualized their activities after dinner last night and then again already this morning. The clothing strewn all over the room was a testament to the heat of it.

"Mmmmmm. It had been a long time since you made THAT noise. I love that noise," Elliot remarked absently, dropping a kiss on the top of Olivia's head.

"Well, it had been a long time since you hit THAT spot," Olivia shot back playfully, her voice muffled against his chest. He laughed and Olivia smiled involuntarily as she felt the corresponding reverberations in his chest. She wrapped her arm tighter around his waist and let herself be soothed by the steadying rise and fall of his chest.

For the next half hour, they lay together in silence, both dozing, both content. Outside, the roar of the ocean and the call of the birds served as a natural lullaby. From the sound of his breathing and the stillness of his hand on her back, Olivia was sure Elliot had fallen back asleep, but when she moved to pull up the covers from the foot of the bed, his soft blue eyes were on her and he smiled. She drew the white sheets over them both and lay back down, nuzzling into his neck. He took her hand and gently wove his fingers through hers, kissing them individually before bringing their joined hands to rest on his stomach.

"Liv . . ." She felt him say her name more than she heard it, absorbed in the rumble of his vocal cords against her face.

"Mmmmm?"

"Move in with me." The words were spoken so softly they may as well have been whispers on the wind.

Despite the gentleness in his tone, Olivia felt as if someone had just thrown cold water over her. Wisps of panic began to swirl in her stomach and the content snoozing she had been enjoying moments earlier was no longer an option.

"El, don't joke." She tried her first defense mechanism on for size – pretending he wasn't being serious. That strategy was quickly quashed.

"I'm not. I'm serious. Move in with me Liv."

"El, it's too soon." With a sigh, Olivia moved away from him, sliding out of bed and wrapping one of the sheets tightly around her. Elliot missed her warmth instantly and wished he had kept his mouth shut. But there was no turning back now.

"You think so?"

"Yes, way too soon." Olivia walked over to the French doors and pulled them shut with a click. Avoiding his gaze, she headed into the bathroom and turned the shower on, pausing for only a moment to get her emotions back under control before returning to the main room.

As soon as Olivia emerged from the bathroom, Elliot could tell that her defenses were up. It was clear in everything from the way she held herself to the way she avoided looking his way. She was pretending to sift through her suitcase, but Elliot knew her eyes were seeing nothing because her mind was miles away.

After several minutes of silence, Elliot tried again. "Why do you get all freaked out when someone suggests moving in?"

"I don't," Olivia insisted, yanking some clothes out of her suitcase. "It's just not the right time." Elliot said nothing but knew she was lying about not being freaked out. He remembered sitting in a bar with her several years ago, talking about an ex-boyfriend, Kurt Moss. She admitted that he had wanted her to move in too, but she felt it "wasn't the right time". Elliot was not about to let her off as easy as Kurt did.

"Why not?"

"Because!" Olivia snapped at him and instantly felt guilty. As the guilt flushed the irritation out of her system, she dropped a shirt back into her suitcase with a sigh. "El, you and Kathy haven't been divorced that long. What will your kids think? You haven't had a chance to really be on your own. Don't you want to experience that before you move in with another woman?"

"No." Elliot's voice was firm as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. "I want to be with you. End of story. I miss seeing you every day."

Olivia felt herself melt a little at his words. Finally she dragged her eyes up to meet his, but kept her distance. As she looked at him sitting there, so sweet and handsome, she felt strong emotions raging in her heart, feelings of love, and hope, and fear. She had to struggle so hard to keep them at bay that it actually brought tears to her eyes. Slowly, she walked over and sat beside him on the bed.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. "It's not you. It's me."

Elliot reached up and ran his thumb slowly over her lower lip. "It's okay. I promise I won't push. But you have to know, you are not, I repeat NOT, a rebound from Kathy. Kathy and I were over long before Kathy and I divorced."

"I know, I know. It's just . . " In that moment, Olivia's mind was flooded with images from her childhood. She saw herself, backed into a corner, the hard wood of the closet door digging into her back, her mother hovering over her, so drunk she could barely stand, shouting at her, telling her no one would ever love her, that she would never be good enough for a good man.

Sighing deeply and pushing those damaging images away, Olivia rested her forehead against Elliot's. "I know."

Suddenly, Olivia felt desperate to prove her mother wrong, to prove she could make Elliot want to stay with her. Pulling back, she dropped her head and let her mouth graze over his throat, up his chin, and settle on his mouth. Craving intimacy, she kissed him passionately, her hands sliding up behind his neck to pull his mouth roughly against hers. He responded to her instantly, picking her up and moving her from the edge of the bed into the middle before kissing her again.

Quickly, Elliot peeled away the covers between them and settled his warm body onto hers. She slid her toes up his calves as he moved his mouth over to kiss the sensitive area just below her ears.

"Just for the record, I know that you are trying to change the subject. And I am going to let you this time, because I really like where you are going with this. But promise me one thing first . . ." As he moved his mouth lower to nibble at the spot where her neck met her shoulders, she would have promised him anything. Still, she tried to play it cool.

"What?" she whispered, letting her hands roam over his shoulders and down his broad, muscled back.

"Don't dismiss the idea of moving in with me right away. Take some time this week, and think about it. Deal?"

Olivia trembled with anticipation as his hand slid down between them, playing over her ribs and stroking her belly. Running her hand down his strong arm, she smiled softly and pulled his mouth back to hers.

"Deal."

* * *

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Elliot and Olivia strolled down the hall of the resort hotel, hand in hand, beach bags slung over their shoulders, stomachs rumbling loudly. The temperature was climbing outside and the halls of the hotel were largely quiet, most of the visitors already off on various adventures.

It was only when they entered the last hallway before the breakfast buffet room that they saw any activity at all. On the left hand side of the long hallway, a door was flung open and bright light spilled out into the hall. People dressed in suits were streaming in and out of the room steadily and the murmur of conversation from inside could be heard several doors down. As they approached the activity, both Elliot and Olivia fell silent, an uncomfortable feeling taking root in the pits of their stomachs. The scene before them was far too familiar – a replay of crime scenes past.

As they passed the open door in the middle of the hall, a dark-haired man was unrolling strips of banana yellow crime scene tape and stringing them across the doorway. Knowing the answer but driven by habit, Elliot stopped and spoke to the man.

"Excuse me. What happened here?"

"Nothing to worry about folks. Just continue on and enjoy your vacation." The man didn't even raise his head to look at them as he fumbled with the tape.

"We're both police officers back in the United States," Olivia said bluntly. "We know that if you are putting out crime scene tape, there is definitely something to worry about."

The man finally raised his head to look at them, tilting it to one side as if trying to assess if they were telling the truth. Finally, as if he really didn't care if they were or not, he shrugged and said "Husband and wife, found dead this morning. Possibly a murder-suicide."

Compelled again by habit, Elliot and Olivia peered into the open room. Once their eyes adjusted to the bright light flooding in through the French doors, they saw the splashes of blood that stained the cream walls, tainted the white sheets, and soaked the soft plush carpeting. Sadness washed over them both and Elliot slung his arm possessively over Olivia's shoulders as they silently said a prayer for the dead.

Just as they were turning to walk away and let the law officials continue their work, Elliot caught sight of the solid gold numbers nailed to the room's door and shock raced through him. Suddenly, he remembered why this part of the hall had seemed familiar. He and Olivia had been outside this room last night, but they had approached it from a different hallway – the one that led away from the restaurant.

Feeling Elliot tense beside her, Olivia glanced up and noticed the numbers. Instantly, she flashed back to the previous night, the feeling of the small keycard being pressed into her hand, Chad's voice as it repeated the number she now saw drilled into the door.

Room 128.

When Elliot and Olivia's eyes met, Elliot uttered the sentiment that was on both of their minds.

"My God. The Roundhouses."


	7. How would you explain it?

**Chapter 7 – How would you explain it?**

_May 27, 2010 2:29 pm_

They tried not to let their discovery ruin the day, but that was easier said than done.

Breakfast had been a quiet affair. Both Elliot and Olivia had loaded their plates with food mindlessly, but neither of them felt even remotely hungry all of a sudden. The music filling the breakfast bar area blocked out most of the activity down the hall, but occasionally someone dressed in a suit would walk past the buffet, a reminder of the horrifying scene they had stumbled onto. Elliot managed to eat a bagel smeared with cream cheese, some eggs, and a banana, but he ate more out of habit than need. Olivia just sat there, pushing the food around her plate and taking the occasional sip of orange juice.

After giving up on eating, they headed outside and walked down to the beach, feeling some of the sadness dissipate under the watchful eye of the sun. It was a beautiful day, although white clouds were starting to dot the horizon. The beach was filled with happy, frolicking people, making the gruesome scene inside seem almost like a dream that they were just now waking up from. Although their bodies relaxed, their minds, conditioned to investigate, were combing over every detail from the night before, searching for indicators that all had not been well with their dinner companions.

No matter how hard he tried, Elliot could not see anything that would have suggested the horrible events of last night were even a possibility. They had seemed so in love, so content. Olivia had an easier time seeing signs, although she too could not fully understand it. As she lay, stretched out on a colorful cloth lounge chair, feeling the sun beating down on her back and raising beads of sweat to the surface of her shoulders, she wondered if perhaps Harmony was not as okay with Chad bringing home other women as he thought.

Maybe their relationship was only open in his mind.

Maybe Chad had been lying to her and had planned to take Olivia back to his room before Harmony even knew they were missing.

Maybe he had found another woman willing to go with him, and Harmony had walked in on them. In a fit of rage, she killed Chad while the other woman escaped. He would have had to pick her up after they left the restaurant. Chad did not leave the booth after that fateful trip to the bar, and she and Elliot had dropped the couple off at their room.

Or maybe Harmony had been the lucky one. Perhaps she had found a guy willing to join them and Chad didn't like her choice. Maybe he killed her and then killed himself while the mystery man escaped.

With all these thoughts free floating in her head, Olivia found herself restless. Rolling over, she dropped her sunglasses back over her eyes and sat up. Her skin was already showing signs of an amazing tan as she stretched and looked down the beach. She glanced quickly over at Elliot, who was lying on his back in a matching lounge chair with his eyes closed. Despite his outward peacefulness, she could tell his mind was working by the way his jaw twitched.

Eager to distract him from the sadness of the morning, Olivia leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Well, I'm getting a great tan. Only thing is, I'm going to have annoying tan lines. Maybe I should suntan topless for a bit."

"Not with all these other guys around here you won't." Elliot responded without opening his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched up into a smile, knowing she was baiting him. She laughed and patted his leg affectionately before standing up. At least she had been right about him not being into "open" relationships.

Stretching again, Olivia glanced down toward the water. "I'm going for a walk up the beach. You want to come?"

"Yeah."

The spotless sand was warm against their feet as Olivia and Elliot trekked down to the water's edge. The light reflected blindingly off the white grains so that, even with sunglasses on, they had to squint. They walked slowly beside the ocean, holding hands, feet sinking into the soggy sand. The water temperature was pleasant and the crests of the waves bubbled and washed white over their feet. They walked past laughing children playing in the sand, couples holding hands and wading into the swells, and boogey boarders sliding past with the tide.

"You know, we probably should have asked for the investigator in charge and offered to give a statement," Elliot mused offhand as they splashed through the roiling surf.

"Why?" Even as she asked the question, Olivia knew the answer.

"Well, we were likely the last people to see them alive. Maybe we could give the police some insight into their state of mind before the incident."

"Yeah, I guess so." Olivia looked less than convinced and Elliot felt bad. She was obviously trying not to let their discovery taint the day, and here he was, bringing it up again. Mentally, he chastised himself. They weren't back in New York. This wasn't their case. Still, he found himself continuing.

"Maybe not though. I mean, it doesn't make any sense to me really. I know, no homicide ever really makes sense, but still. They seemed so happy last night. What could have possibly happened?"

"I don't know." Olivia shook her head slowly, electing to keep her varied theories to herself for the moment. "Obviously there was a lot more going on than we could see in that brief dinner."

"Yeah, of course." Elliot shook his head sadly, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck. "Well, if it is a murder-suicide, it shouldn't take them too long to wrap it all up. It's not going to be good publicity for the resort regardless. I feel sorry for whoever found them. Some resort staff member is going to need a lot of counseling."

"You're not kidding. I wonder if someone in one of the neighboring rooms heard them. Judging from the amount and splatter of the blood we saw, there must have been a struggle."

"Well, the rooms are probably pretty soundproof. If not, I'm sure our neighbors would have lodged a noise complaint after how loud you were last night." Elliot grinned widely as Olivia shot him a dirty look over her sunglasses.

They had walked a few more feet in silence, Elliot still grinning like the Cheshire Cat, when Olivia suddenly pointed out into the water.

"Hey El, look at that." Releasing his hand, she strode out a good 10 feet into the water, stopping only when she toed the edge of the sandbar. Lifting up her sunglasses, she peered down into the water.

"What do you see?" Elliot followed her out, squinting in the light that reflected off the water. She pointed down, into the relative darkness of the deeper water beyond the sandbar.

"There."

"I don't see anything . . ."

Before he had time to react, Olivia stepped back and, throwing all her weight into it, pushed Elliot hard. Caught off guard, Elliot lost his balance, slipped off the sandbar, and splashed headfirst into the deep water. When he surfaced, sputtering and wiping water out of his eyes, Olivia was doubled over laughing with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"THAT was for the loud comment."

"You, my friend, are in such trouble!" As Elliot swum back over to the sandbar, Olivia took off running out of the water and down the beach. She was laughing too hard to get very far though and soon he had caught up with her, encircling her with his arms, throwing her over his shoulder, and dunking them both back into the crystal clear blue-white water.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the sky clouded over and the sun went into hiding, but the atmosphere in their hotel room was still smoking hot.

Elliot moved over Olivia slowly, his hips gently rotating, shifting rhythmically under the crisp white sheets, his eyes watching her face intently for any sign of pain. He knew she had to be sore, but she never complained and the only emotions he saw flitting across her face were ones of pleasure. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open slightly, her head tilted back as he buried his face in her neck and gradually increased the speed of his movements. Their still wet bathing suits were dampening the carpet, forming grey puddles in the cream shag.

"Ohhhhhhh, El." Olivia's whimpered pleas drove him on, a carnal urge to move harder and faster battling with his rational side that reminded him to be gentle.

A loud knock on their door stopped them both mid-movement, their eyes flying open.

"Who is it?" Elliot growled, stilling himself over Olivia but not pulling away.

"Korps Politie Aruba, Inspector First Class Delano Maduro" a voice called back, muffled by the wood of the door. "I need to speak to a Mr. Elliot Stabler and a Miss Olivia Benson."

"Give us a minute!" Elliot called before grunting a quieter "Dammit." Gently extricating himself, he rolled off Olivia and reached for his suitcase, pulling out a pair of shorts and a grey T-shirt. "Better get dressed Liv."

Olivia was already way ahead of him, yanking on a pair of Bermuda shorts and a black tank top.

Elliot made it to the door first, peering through the peep hole to see a short man with deeply tanned, lined skin waiting patiently in the hallway, fiddling with his tie. When Elliot opened the door, the man snapped to attention, his eyes cool and assessing.

"Badge please," Elliot grumbled. Reaching into his pocket, the man produced it with no expression on his face. Elliot looked it over carefully. He had never seen an Aruban police badge before, but it appeared legit. He memorized the number before handing it back.

"Mr. Stabler I presume?" Maduro's voice was calm and unassuming, but his eyes were alert and intense. "Where is Miss Benson?"

"Right here." Olivia appeared behind Elliot's left shoulder, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Excellent. If you would both come with me please. I have some questions to ask you surrounding the death of Mr. and Mrs. Chad Roundhouse."

* * *

The office was ridiculously hot.

It was an intimidation tactic that Elliot knew well. Crank up the temperature in the interrogation room so the suspect would be uncomfortable and therefore more likely to let something slip. Given the rest of the hotel was enveloped in air-conditioned coolness, it was obvious that the temperature in the office was high on purpose. Although the office belonged to a hotel staff member and was not normally an interrogation room, the same principle applied.

Inspector Maduro had separated Elliot and Olivia almost immediately. He claimed it was because the offices were simply too small to fit three people comfortably, but Elliot knew he really just didn't want to give them the opportunity to get their story straight. Not that they had a story to straighten. Olivia had been escorted to an office in a different part of the hotel while he and Maduro sat down in the current one.

"You know, I can verify if that is the truth," Maduro commented mildly in response to Elliot's assertion that he was a New York City detective, hoping for some professional courtesy.

"Go ahead." Elliot calmly rattled off his badge number, as well as the contact number and name for his Captain back in New York. Maduro wrote both numbers down neatly on his pad of paper before turning his eyes back to Elliot.

"So what brings you to Aruba, Mr. Stabler?"

"I'm here on vacation with my girlfriend." Elliot kept his answers short, knowing the inspector would be looking for ways to trap him and twist his words. He had done it many times himself in pursuit of a confession.

"You weren't surprised when I mentioned the death of Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse." Maduro's comment was more of a statement than a question.

"No. We were on our way to breakfast this morning when we passed their room. We spoke to one of your colleagues, who told us that it was a murder-suicide."

"Hmmmm. My colleague accidently misinformed you. It was not a murder-suicide. It has since been ruled a double homicide." Maduro leaned forward and squinted at Elliot. "Did my colleague mention the name of the victims?"

"No."

"Then how did you know it was Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse?"

"We recognized the room number. Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse sat with us at dinner last night. After dinner, we walked with them toward our rooms. Their room was the first one we came across. They wished us a good night and we kept going."

"You didn't go into Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse's room?"

"No."

"Did your girlfriend?"

"No."

"Where did you go after you left the Roundhouses?"

"Back to our room."

"Is there anyone who can verify you were in your room between the hours of 1 am and 4 am this morning?"

"My girlfriend can."

"She's hardly unbiased. Anyone beside her? Room service? The front desk?"

Elliot bit his tongue to keep from snapping at Maduro. "No. We didn't order room service and didn't leave the room."

"So I assume you will vouch for your girlfriend's whereabouts between the hours of 1 am and 4 am this morning?"

"Of course. She was in bed with me."

"Were you awake during those hours?"

"I don't think so. Most people sleep during those hours typically."

"Then how do you know she didn't leave the room?"

"I would have noticed if she was gone."

"Really? Even if you were sleeping?"

Elliot felt anger begin to bubble under his skin as sweat trickled down his neck. He knew where Maduro was going with this. He ignored the question, as Maduro already knew the answer, and sat silently. Maduro's cool eyes never left his. Professional courtesy was obviously not going to be forthcoming.

When Elliot didn't speak, Maduro continued. "Tell me about your dinner with the Roundhouses."

Taking a deep breath to quell his irritation, Elliot recounted the events of the night before, starting from the young host's appearance at their table with the Roundhouses in tow and ending when Chad shut the door behind him and his wife as Elliot and Olivia continued on to their room. He detailed the topics of their conversation as far as he could remember while Maduro jotted notes quietly.

Once he had finished, Maduro looked at him thoughtfully.

"So last night was the first time you had ever met the Roundhouses?"

"Yes."

"You both live in the United States."

"New York and Los Angeles are nowhere near each other."

"Both are large cities. Perhaps you ran into Mr. Roundhouse when he came around to recruit talent in New York."

"I had never met Chad or Harmony prior to last night," Elliot repeated through gritted teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists to try and relax his hands.

"Had your wife?"

"No. Olivia met them for the first time last night as well."

"Really. That's interesting."

Blowing out a deep breath, Elliot's eyes pierced Maduro's.

"Why is that interesting?" Elliot asked dully, growing tired of the games.

"Well, she and Mr. Roundhouse looked quite close last night. They must have really hit it off in a short period of time."

Elliot suddenly felt a bad feeling blossoming in his gut. "Olivia gets along well with everyone. We all talked and laughed together. I wouldn't describe them as close though."

"Really." Maduro leaned back in his chair and opened a file folder that had been sitting underneath his pad of paper. Slowly, he withdrew a small stack of glossy 11" by 14" photos. He held them up so the back of the photos were all Elliot could see. Maduro looked at them quizzically for a moment before shaking his head and silently sliding the photos across the table toward Elliot.

Seeing the top photo was more painful for Elliot than being shot. The lighting wasn't amazing, but Elliot could clearly make out the bar area of the resort restaurant. The photo was zoomed in, and both Olivia and Chad's faces were unmistakable. In the top photo, they were pressed against each other, Chad holding onto Olivia's arm with one hand while the other hand rested on her hip. She had one hand resting against his chest. His hand on her arm was a bit hard to make out through the swarms of people around them, but the hand on her hip was clear as day from the camera angle. Elliot could also tell that, although things were undeniably cramped, there was enough room that they didn't need to be THAT close together. The next photo showed them slightly further apart, but Chad's hand was now resting on her backside as they gazed at each other. The sight made Elliot sick to his stomach.

The rest of the photos were more of the same.

Chad with his finger under Olivia's chin, his thumb resting just below her bottom lip, their faces inches apart. Had he leaned forward a bit more, he could have kissed her.

Both of them talking, Chad with the look of a lovelorn Romeo on his face, Olivia facing away from the camera. It was almost as if she was looking to make sure no one was watching them.

Chad pressed up against Olivia, a beer in one hand, his mouth next to her ear. The look on her face suggested she was listening to him intently as her hand rested on the crook of his arm.

Chad touching Olivia's face with the back of his hand, his finger brushing over her cheekbone.

The last photo was of them holding hands, their arms outstretched as if trying not to lose each other in the sea of people.

Elliot sat staring blindly at the photos, not wanting to believe what he saw immortalized in them. Maduro gave him a few moments of quiet before leaning forward in his seat again.

"There is a security camera, pointed at the bar area in the resort's a la carte restaurant. It's meant to discourage fights and purse snatchings. These are still photos taken from the video feed. Tell me something Mr. Stabler," Maduro placed his hands on the desk and touched the corner of one of the photos spread out before Elliot. "If you wouldn't describe your girlfriend and Mr. Roundhouse as close, how would you explain it?


	8. Only the guilty sleep soundly

**Chapter 8 – Only the guilty sleep soundly**

_May 27, 2010 6:37 pm_

Olivia had a pounding headache.

In retrospect, that should not have surprised her. She hadn't eaten since last night, had spent a good portion of the afternoon in the hot sun, and was about to be questioned as a potential suspect for a crime she didn't commit. Fan-freaking-tastic, Olivia thought wryly, rubbing her throbbing temples gingerly.

The small office she had been unceremoniously dumped in by one of the inspector's subordinates was smoldering hot. Olivia could feel her clothes sticking to her in just about every possible place. For the last 45 minutes, she had sat quietly but impatiently, waiting. The officer who had led her to the small room was hanging around outside trying to look inconspicuous, but she knew he was keeping an eye on her for the inspector while he presumably grilled Elliot.

Wearily, Olivia lay her head down on the oak desk and closed her eyes, feeling drained and depressed. Not that she had a choice, but she wasn't up to answering questions. She felt downright miserable. The vacation of her dreams was rapidly turning into a nightmare right before her eyes, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it.

"Miss Benson, are we boring you? What is that saying again? Only the guilty sleep soundly? Or something like that." Inspector Maduro's voice jolted Olivia awake and into a sitting position. Blinking blearily at her watch, she realized she had probably dozed off for about 15 minutes. His analytical eyes never leaving her, Maduro walked into the small office and closed the glass door behind him, dropping a pad of paper and a file folder on the desk with a thud that made Olivia's eyeballs ache.

"I'm not feeling well," Olivia mumbled, trying to gather her wits about her. The room seemed hazy after her short nap and she felt disoriented. Giving her head a shake, she sat up straighter, pushed her hair back behind her ears, and folded her hands in her lap in an attempt to look attentive and cooperative.

"That's most unfortunate," replied Maduro dryly, lowering himself into the seat directly across from her. The chair creaked loudly under his weight and Olivia felt her head protest the noise. "Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse are dead. So regardless of how ill you feel, you are doing better than they are."

Olivia bristled internally at his tone but remained calm externally. "I would be glad to help in any way I can. I'm not sure how much I can tell you though. I certainly didn't see anything in their behavior last night that suggested one of them would turn on the other."

"They didn't." The chair creaked again as Maduro shifted his weight and Olivia winced. "Someone else turned on both of them. Their deaths have been ruled a double homicide."

Startled, Olivia leaned back in her chair. Suddenly, she knew why Maduro was copping an attitude with her. He thought she was the killer.

"I am willing to answer any questions you have. I don't know how much more help I can be than Elliot was though." Olivia's voice sounded tired, even to her own ears.

"Actually, I think you can be a lot more help. Mr. Stabler wasn't nearly as much help as I was hoping he would be. In fact, when I showed him these photos, he wasn't able to give me any information at all." Maduro slid a file folder across the smooth oak desk. "Maybe you know a bit more."

Frowning, Olivia opened the file folder and suddenly felt as if someone had nailed her in the stomach with a two by four. The folder contained pictures, up close and personal, of her and Chad at the bar.

"Where did you get these?" Olivia had to work hard to control her breathing as she flipped through the first few photos.

"Security camera in the restaurant's bar area." Maduro watched her face like a hawk, and although she tried to hide it, she was sure he saw her panic. The closer she looked at the photos, the more her thoughts turned to Elliot. The photos looked really bad. To someone with no idea what had really happened, it clearly looked like she was flirting with Chad at the bar. She couldn't even make it through all of the photos. When she saw the one of Chad with his finger under her chin, his face inches from hers, she closed the folder and fought off a wave of nausea.

"Care to help me out here, Miss Benson?" Maduro's voice dripped with cynicism. Slowly, Olivia rubbed her hand over her face. She knew from experience that the truth would likely not set her free, but she started into her story anyway.

"We, Chad and I, went up to the bar to get a drink. It was really crowded, lots of people standing around. There wasn't much room to breathe, never mind move. Chad was placing our orders, and suddenly someone bumped into me from behind. I stumbled forward and bumped into Chad. He caught me."

"Really." Maduro pulled the folder back toward him and removed the photos, shuffling through them slowly. "I have seen the footage from the security camera. I didn't see anyone bump into you."

"Then you didn't look close enough," Olivia snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head hurt so bad it felt like someone was taking a jackhammer to her brain. "Someone bumped into me, and I fell into Chad."

"Okay. Accidents happen. But why didn't you move away?" Maduro's eyes glinted in an almost predatory way. Olivia wondered mildly if that is how she looked during interrogations too. A hunter stalking its prey.

"I did. Well I tried to anyway. There wasn't much room to move as I said. Even when I did back away, he kept his hands on me. It made me feel uncomfortable, but there was nowhere else to go."

"Okay. In theory, that would explain a few of these photos. What about the rest?" Maduro flashed the picture of Chad touching her chin. The way the camera caught them, it looked to be an intimate moment between lovers. Olivia wondered how Elliot had taken that picture. Undoubtedly not well.

"As we were waiting there, he started to hit on me. Spewing off all these lame lines. I blew him off, but then, as he was walking away, he trapped me." Olivia felt her throat close a bit in anger as the scene replayed before her eyes. "He told me that he and his wife had an "open relationship". He suggested I come back with him to their hotel room and have sex with him as his wife watched." Olivia felt shaky as she recounted the tale, her hands trembling under the desk. Aware that the shakiness made her look suspicious, she took several deep breaths, forced herself to be calm, and met Maduro's eyes coolly.

"Okay, so you went back to his room with him. And what, it wasn't what you expected? Things got out of hand? Maybe it was self-defense." Maduro's voice contained no affect as his eyes stared piercingly into hers.

"No!" Olivia protested sharply. "I didn't go back to his room with him. I told him that I wasn't into that kind of thing."

"Strange. Mr. Stabler didn't mention any of this. He seemed to think you and the Roundhouses got along quite well. These photos confirm his version of the story. But that's not the picture you are painting right now."

Olivia closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. It felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest. Behind her eyelids, all she could see was Elliot's face as he looked at those misleading photos. When she finally found her voice, it was no louder than a whisper.

"I never told him."

"I'm sorry?" Maduro leaned forward in his chair, eliciting a loud creak that made Olivia's head throb. He raised his voice as if to demonstrate how she should talk. "I can't hear you."

Clearing her throat, Olivia spoke louder. "I never told him. About what happened with Chad. About the proposition."

Maduro shook his head slowly and patronizingly, setting Olivia's teeth on edge. "That's odd. I would have thought you would have told him right away. I mean, he is your boyfriend, isn't he? I know I would want to know if another man was blatantly putting the moves on my girlfriend. You let another man touch you, and you never said anything to your boyfriend about it. That leads me to believe that you must have liked it . . ."

"I didn't like it," Olivia retorted sharply. "I should have told him, but I didn't. I knew he would be furious and I didn't want him to do anything that he would regret or that would ruin our vacation. I also didn't go back to the Roundhouses' room, or act on anything Chad suggested. I went back to MY hotel room with MY boyfriend.

"So you weren't in the Roundhouses' room at all?"

"No! My God, how many times do I have to say it?!?!" Olivia, normally skilled at controlling her temper, felt her control start to slip. She was wracked with guilt over what Elliot must have thought when he saw the photos, and Maduro was pushing all the right buttons. Her fatigue and a growing sense of bitter unfairness were making her unravel at the seams. It looked like her mother was right after all. She was not destined to ever be happy.

Reaching into his pocket, Maduro produced a small evidence bag and placed it softly on the table. A familiar object sat in the bag – the Roundhouses' keycard. "There are two sets of fingerprints on this keycard. One set is Mr. Roundhouse's. The second set is not his wife's. I am not a betting man, but I would bet my life that the second set of fingerprints is yours."

"He shoved it into my hand, right as he was walking away." Trying to calm herself, Olivia pointed to the corresponding photo in the folder. "There. He stuck it into my hand."

"Why didn't you refuse it?" The logical question made Olivia feel like an idiot.

"I don't know! I was in shock!" Olivia threw up her hands in frustration. The inspector was good. He now had her rattled, doubting her actions and cursing herself for not saying anything to Elliot earlier. She now had no one to corroborate her story. "Look, where did you find it?"

"It was recovered by a hotel employee in a garbage can outside the restaurant."

"Exactly! I threw it out. Why would I do that if I was planning on meeting Chad in his room?"

"Perhaps you threw it out later, after you had already been to his room. Because you were trying to cover up the fact you had just committed two murders. The keycard was only recovered this morning. You could have dumped it any time last night."

Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but then snapped it shut. The inspector had an answer for everything, so it was pointless. Suddenly, she was too exhausted to defend herself anymore. All she longed to do was curl up with Elliot, revel in the safety she felt when his arms were around her, and wake up from this horrible dream.

"I didn't kill anyone. " Her voice sounded flat and dead, even to her. "I'm a police officer. I protect people."

"I know, I checked. You and your boyfriend both are." Maduro leaned back in his chair. "That doesn't preclude you from committing murder."

Resting her head on her hands wearily, she looked Maduro straight in the eye. "Are you going to arrest me then? You seem to have it all figured out."

Maduro regarded her carefully, tapping his pen on the folder of photos. "No, not yet. There is something that is not making sense to me yet. The way the victims were killed suggests a lot of rage. Now, I believe you were a willing participant in the Roundhouses' sexual activities. So why would you be angry at them? I think you are covering for someone."

Leaning in close, Maduro's voice dropped to a whisper. "Miss Benson, did your boyfriend walk in on you and Mr. Roundhouse? You see, I think it went down this way. You and Elliot went back to your room after dinner and had sex. Then, after he fell asleep, you slipped out and met up with Mr. Roundhouse. Elliot woke up, saw that you weren't there, and went looking for you. It wouldn't be a leap to think you had gone to the Roundhouses'. You don't know anyone else at this resort after all. He probably thought you went over for a nightcap, to chat. He knocked on the door, and Mrs. Roundhouse let him in, thinking he has decided to join the fun. She doesn't know you never told him. He walks in and sees you and Mr. Roundhouse going at it on the bed. He flies into a fit of rage, grabs a golf club, and kills them both. Feeling guilty for your actions, you cover for him." Looking pleased with himself, Maduro sat back in his chair. "You must admit Miss Benson, the scenario works. You said yourself Mr. Stabler would have been furious if he found out Mr. Roundhouse propositioned you. How do you think he would react if he actually caught you in the act?

Olivia pushed back her chair with a loud scrape and stood up unsteadily. "If you are not going to arrest me, I don't have to listen to this anymore."

Maduro stood too, leaning forward with both hands flat on the desk. "Tell me, Miss Benson. Had we caught you earlier and run tests, the fluids of how many different men would we have found inside you last night?"

His harsh, crude words struck Olivia like a freight train. She had been accused of many things in her life, but this assault on her character was unlike any other. Tears of anger filling her eyes, she grabbed the door handle, yanked it open, and walked out into the hallway, which was blessedly cooler. Turning slowly, she looked at Maduro with hatred coating her dark eyes. "I won't talk to you again without a lawyer."

"You better get in touch with one then Miss Benson. You'll need it."

Spinning sharply, Olivia slammed the office door behind her so hard that the glass inlay shattered, shards crashing down to the floor in a melodic cascade.


	9. A picture is worth a thousand words

**Chapter 9 – A picture is worth a thousand words **

_May 27, 2010 8:11 pm_

The weather outside had suddenly turned stormy.

The innocent-looking fluffy white clouds that had dotted the horizon earlier had morphed into a big, dark, ugly, threatening mass. Rain pelted down, assaulting the French doors and turning the sandy beach beyond into a runny white blur. A strong wind lashed the trees violently, scattering lost leaves in every direction. Further out, the storm whipped the ocean into a frenzy, forming monstrous waves that crashed against the beach, corroding and disfiguring the sand.

Elliot stood in front of the beleaguered French doors, arms folded tightly across his chest, staring out at the chaos. Ironically, the weather in Aruba was rarely stormy. Outside of "isolated weather events", the sun typically shone. That was one of the main reasons he had chosen Aruba for their escape, hoping he and Olivia could soak up some of the much needed Vitamin D that rarely made it through the New York City haze. At that moment however, the "isolated weather event" rocking the island was fitting – it matched his mood perfectly. Pathetic fallacy at its finest.

Elliot felt every bit as unsettled inside as the weather. Eyes open or closed, all he could see were those damned photos. Chad and Olivia, embracing at the bar. Another man tenderly touching the woman Elliot loved. The agony he felt was equivalent to being stabbed repeatedly with a sharp, jagged, rusty knife. With each scene that flickered in his mind's eye, the knife gouged a little deeper and twisted a little harder. Elliot's poker face had betrayed him in the interrogation. Maduro had immediately sensed his weakness and poured salt directly into the wound, over and over again. Elliot had left the small, smoldering office feeling like a fool blinded by love. He hated feeling like that. Anger, humiliation, and betrayal now formed a dangerous cocktail in the dungeon of his stomach.

As if on cue, lightning crackled over the ocean and the sound of a keycard in the door lock made Elliot tense. Behind him, the door creaked open and then closed with a dull thud, but he refused to turn and acknowledge her entry. Instead, he continued staring blindly out the rain-streaked window, listening to thunder rumble threateningly over the water. The storm was not far away now, and it would come quickly.

"El . . ." Her voice was soft, but it cut through him like another stab of the knife. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he pretended he didn't hear her. He couldn't have responded, even if he wanted to. It hurt to talk. It hurt to stand. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to exist.

"El . . ." Her voice was closer this time, and he felt her warm hand on his back. He jerked away from the contact, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Don't touch me." His voice was reminiscent of the recent thunder, low and harsh. Pushing past her, he strode, head down, to the opposite side of the room. Outside, another growl of thunder erupted, echoing his anger and rattling the glass panes in the doors.

"Please. Just let me explain." Her voice started off steady, but he could hear a slight tremble in it by the time she reached the last word.

"No need. A picture is worth a thousand words Olivia."

"El, you have been a cop long enough to know that pictures can be deceiving. Please. Let me talk. It isn't what it looked like."

Sucking in a deep breath, Elliot swallowed and then exhaled loudly. It wasn't easy in the small room, but he tried frantically to look anywhere but at her. More than anything in this world, he wanted desperately for it to be anything but what it looked like. Realizing his hands were shaking, he shoved them quickly under his arms to steady them. Elliot Stabler would never show weakness. Not to anyone. Even her. Gradually, determined to prove his inner strength to himself, he raised his eyes to look at Olivia and immediately wished he hadn't. It was too hard, too painful. Quickly, he cast his eyes back to the ground and leaned against the wall by the bathroom, feigning irritation and, he hoped, ambivalence. "Fine. Talk."

Thunder crashed almost directly overhead now. The only light in the room flickered off twice before steadying itself. Slowly, Olivia lowered herself onto the side of the bed, careful to maintain Elliot's distance. She wanted to hug him so badly, but she respected his space, recognized that he needed it. Resting her elbows on her knees, she ran her hands through her hair, her mind churning sluggishly, trying to figure out how to start. She felt so weak, so drained, but pushed herself to keep going. She owed him the truth, regardless of how he took it.

Staring intently at the floor, Olivia recounted the events at the bar. She told the story matter-of-factly with no affect. Although it was only the second time she had told it, it felt like the millionth. This time, she was careful to explain what had really been happening in each of the photos. Occasionally, throughout the story, her eyes would flit up to watch him, hoping in vain for a sign he believed her. No such sign was forthcoming. He stood stock still, his breathing ragged. She couldn't even tell if he was really listening, but she suspected he was. His posture radiated tension and anger, and his face resembled stone. If she hadn't known him as well as she did, she would have been terrified. He looked downright murderous.

After she wrapped up the story, Olivia sat quietly, waiting for Elliot to make the next move. He didn't yell, but he never softened either, never made a move to hold her as she hoped he would. When he finally spoke, his words were strangled and coated with anger.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Unable to stand still any longer, he started to pace back and forth, fury fueling his steps.

Sighing, Olivia rubbed her forehead. "What would you have done if I had told you, Elliot?"

"I would have dragged him out of the damn booth by the scruff of his neck and told him that if he EVER lay his hands on my woman again, I'd-"

"Exactly!" Olivia interrupted him softly but firmly. "That's my point. That's why I didn't tell you. You would have reacted angrily. I was trying to avoid that. You had been having such a good time. I didn't want to upset you or put a damper on our vacation. I figured I could handle it."

"So it's MY fault you didn't tell me?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Well, guess what Olivia? Despite your best efforts, I'm upset, and our vacation is ruined. So you may as well have told me. " Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but decided against it. He was handling this poorly, but, to a certain degree, he was right.

His jaw working furiously, Elliot stalked back over to the French doors again, placing his hands on either side of one of the windows. The weather outside was worsening, the sky churning an inky black and the rain obscuring the view of anything further than two feet away. "Olivia, I'm your boyfriend now. Before, when I was just your partner, it wasn't my business. But now, now it is absolutely my business. The advances he was making were serious. I'm not an idiot and I'm not naive. You're gorgeous. Whether I like it or not, guys are going to hit on you. But he was not just offering to buy you a drink. He wanted you to go back to his room and have sex with him, knowing full well that you were with me. I think I deserve to know about that."

"I can take care of myself Elliot, but you're right. I'm sorry. I should have told you." Olivia looked up at Elliot, eyes pleading, but even as he turned from the French doors and the sheets of rain, he wouldn't look at her. In that second, she knew that it was over.

"Damn right you should have." Elliot growled, prowling around the room again, rubbing his eyes roughly. Then suddenly he stopped, resting a fist against the foyer wall. "Maduro thinks that you offed them both, doesn't he?"

Olivia nodded wearily. "Well, he thinks either I did it, or I helped you do it."

"Great. Just great. This is the vacation from hell!" Elliot spat, striking the wall just hard enough with his fist that a picture slid off, bouncing twice on the plush carpet. Annoyed, he bent over to pick it up, tossing it on the small bureau across from the foot of the bed.

"Do you think I did it?" Olivia's voice sounded small compared to the crash of thunder overhead.

Elliot felt his anger diminish slightly as he rubbed his sore knuckles. When he finally turned to look at her, he absorbed just how horrible she really looked. Her normally tanned face was ghostly pale and marred by dark black circles under her eyes. Today was undeniably taking a toll on her.

"No. I know you didn't do it." His voice was softer, but still held sharp edges, honed to a point by hurt.

"Do you believe that nothing was going on between me and Chad?"

Elliot felt himself tense again, the photos running through his mind like a slideshow. Chad, with his hands on his Olivia.

"I believe you didn't sleep with Chad."

His intentional rephrasing of her question was a blow to her heart.

"But you think I was flirting with him. That's what you're insinuating." Even through her exhaustion, Olivia felt anger scorching her veins.

"Olivia, you were pressed right against him. What am I supposed to think?"

"I explained why that was!" Olivia's anger was as contagious as the plague. Elliot felt himself getting angry again - angry that she was angry. He was innocent in all this, the bumbling, blind boyfriend, and she had the nerve to get mad at him.

"You know what?" Olivia pushed herself off the bed unsteadily, her legs wobbling with anger and sadness. "Fine. I've already been called a whore once today. Why don't you make it twice?"

Olivia's words knocked Elliot off kilter a bit. "You're not a whore. Don't put words in my mouth."

"Okay. So you don't think I'm a whore, but you do think that I would blatantly flirt with Chad in the bar while you sat no more than 30 feet away. I guess that would make me a bitch instead." Olivia's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I didn't say that either!" Elliot's voice rose to match hers, a flush of anger tinting his ears red. "All I'm saying is that you were close enough to kiss him. And it wouldn't be the first time you kissed a guy to make me jealous, now would it? Remember Stuckey, and Porter?"

Shocked speechless, Olivia had to put a hand on the footboard of the bed to steady herself. That was a low blow, and they both knew it. Quickly, Olivia's rage drained, leaving her with a feeling of empty, resigned sadness. As she shook her head in disbelief, a single tear escaped down her cheek.

"You prick."

The words slipped out before she could stop them. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand but they refilled as quickly as she cleared them. Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke, but she kept her chin high. "Everything I have done in the last 12 years has been for either the victims or you Elliot. I would never, ever do anything intentionally to hurt you."

She wanted to continue, but Olivia choked up, a small piece of herself crumbling. She had waited so many years to be with the man she loved, and now, not long after she finally had him, she had lost him. Her mother was right. Damn her.

When Olivia raised her eyes to look into Elliot's, she could still see some tension, but most of the anger had dissipated, leaving only hurt and betrayal behind. She could feel the same emotions swimming in hers.

"I love you Elliot." The words came out easily. She had told herself she wouldn't say it too soon, but ironically, now it was too late. "I have for a long time. And if you think that I would throw it all away to make out with some strange guy in a bar, screw you."

Elliot just stood there silently as she pushed past him, driven by an intense need to get the hell out of that room. In her mind, she begged him to stop her, to tell her not to go, to tell her that he loved her. But he didn't. He didn't do anything. He just stood there, arms crossed, and watched her go.

Blinded by sadness, she stumbled through the hallways of the resort, earning quick, curious glances from other guests. She thought she was going to be sick and her lungs cried out for fresh air. Pushing through the exit door at the end of the hall, she staggered out into the storm, inhaling the clean but cutting air. Not caring where she went at that moment, she started walking, muddy sand oozing over her flip flops and squishing between her toes. Before she had any concept of direction, she found herself down by the ocean, wading in up to her knees before continuing down the beach. She lurched frequently to keep her balance in the churning waves. The ocean water was ice cold as it nipped at her bare skin, leaving angry red welts in its wake, the physical pain a welcome distraction from the emotional pain. As she walked, she turned her face up to the sky, allowing the cold rain to mix with her warm tears.

Olivia made it several miles down the beach, until the resort was nothing but a distant mountain hidden behind a curtain of rain, before her blood sugar and blood pressure both plummeted and she collapsed. Black spots cloaked her vision, and she staggered, fighting hard to remain on her feet. As if waking suddenly from a dream, she found herself down on her knees in the surf, with no recollection of having fallen. She blearily tried to stand, but her strong body, battered by the elements and her intense emotions, had nothing else to give.

This time when she went down, she didn't get back up.


	10. Breaking and entering, are we?

**Chapter 10 – Breaking and entering, are we?**

_May 28, 2010 5:55 am_

When she wasn't back in three hours, he got worried.

When she wasn't back in eight, he got scared.

The weather outside had settled, the dark clouds having dispersed during the night and, in their absence, the sky welcomed a sea of twinkling stars. The wind had died, the ocean had calmed, and the rain had ceased, the air thick with a freshness that only came after a good storm. As Elliot watched, the view through the window had gone from pitch black, to grey, and was now showing signs of white light as the sun pushed its way toward the horizon to usher in a new day. Outside, birds started to stir in the trees, preparing for the arrival of the sun.

But still no Olivia.

Clad in a pair of boxer shorts, Elliot lay on top of the sheets, propped up on several pillows, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't slept all night, but he was too worried to really be tired. His fight with Olivia over 8 hours ago ran on a continuous loop through his head, each word echoing in his ears hauntingly. He had said some hurtful things that he now regretted with every fiber of his being. Throwing Stuckey and Porter in her face had been low. Yes, he had been jealous when she kissed them, but that was before they were a couple. And he had purposely ignored the extenuating circumstances to make his point. In reality, she had kissed Stuckey to save Elliot's life, and she had distracted Porter to help them solve a case. His comment had been uncalled for, the product of a deadly mix of anger and hurt, a recipe for disaster.

Remembering the pained look on her face, he would give anything to take it back.

It made it even harder knowing that she had taken the high road. Instead of hurling back one of his past boneheaded moves in retribution, Olivia told him she loved him. The very words he had longed to hear from her for as long as he could remember. And then she left, leaving those words hanging in the air. Stupidly, he had let her go. He wanted to stop her, to grab her, kiss her, make love to her, pleasure her until she got that amazing look on her face and cried out his name, but it was as if he was wading through quicksand. He couldn't get his body to react fast enough, to catch up with his mind. And then she was gone.

Around 2:00 am, Elliot had gone looking for her, roaming aimlessly around the resort. He had visited the restaurant, looked for her in the bar, stopped by the casino, but no Olivia. For a few fleeting moments, he feared that he had driven her into the arms of another man with his stupidity. Then, remembering that line of thinking had gotten them into this fight in the first place, he shook it away. Fed up with him, she probably decided to get her own room for the night. She had left her wallet and passport in the hotel room, so she couldn't have gotten far.

Briefly, Elliot entertained the idea of contacting the police for help with the search. If she was hurt . . . he pushed that idea away as well. It wasn't productive to think that way, he had to focus. If he contacted the police, Maduro would undoubtedly find out, and assume that she was on the lam. No, he had no choice but to wait for her to return on her terms. He longed for just one more opportunity to see her, talk to her, hold her if she would let him, and apologize for being a jerk. One more opportunity to tell her he loved her. Olivia was so different than Kathy. Kathy was needy, liked being taken care of and coddled. Olivia was used to being on her own. He would have to show her he loved her by giving her space.

Feeling frustrated and impotent, Elliot sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sleep was not going to happen, not before he talked to her. Padding into the bathroom, he turned the water on as hot as he could stand it and showered, standing under the steady stream of water until his skin shriveled and ached. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a green collared shirt, he was extremely cognizant of how quiet and sterile the once cozy room was without her. Slipping on a pair of sandals, he brushed his teeth and developed a plan of attack. He could not sit around all day waiting for Olivia to come back. He would go crazy. He had to do something. He couldn't fix things WITH Olivia until she was willing to sit down and talk with him. But he could fix things FOR her by getting to the bottom of the Roundhouse case. Obviously, Maduro was fixating on the wrong people. If Elliot could prove that they were innocent, Maduro would leave them alone and they could focus on salvaging what was left of their vacation, as well as their battered relationship. To prove their innocence, he required information. Information that there was no way in hell Maduro would give him. He would have to go get it himself.

The resort resembled a ghost town as Elliot slipped out of his room, closing the door gently behind him. All was quiet and there were no signs of life behind most doors as he tread softly through the empty corridors. Most of the occupants were waiting for the rising sun to rouse them from their slumber and signal the start of the day. As he approached Room 128, he held his breath and was particularly attentive. The door was closed and all was quiet inside. Tattered remnants of crime scene tape poked through the door jam, but the large pieces had all been removed. The resort obviously did not want its guests reminded of the disturbing happenings in that room.

Trying to look inconspicuous, Elliot continued past Room 128 and sauntered down the rest of the hall, passing the breakfast buffet. That room, unlike the hallways, did show considerable signs of life, as many of the resort staff sat there, trying to choke down breakfast before guests woke up, assumed control of the buffet, and demanded their attention.

Once past the buffet room, Elliot picked up his pace considerably, circling through the halls again. As he closed in on Room 128 for the second time, he felt adrenaline kick in. Glancing up and down the hall, he put his ear to the doors on either side of Room 128, listening intently. Silence. Moving quickly, Elliot lowered his shoulder and threw his weight into the sensitive spot on Room 128's door. With a loud crack, it flew open and Elliot stumbled inside. Using his elbow to avoid leaving obvious prints, Elliot quickly closed the door behind him and leaned against it, listening carefully through the wood. No voices, no footsteps. No one coming to check out the crash, at least not yet. He would have to work quickly.

Turning on his heels, Elliot began to survey the room, absorbing all the details like the skilled investigator he was. The natural light was still dim, but he dared not turn on any artificial light for fear someone would see it. As best he could tell, the room was untouched since the crime scene unit had finished with it yesterday. The bed was stripped, the sheets removed, but the blood stains remained, having gone straight through into the mattress, pooling in the middle. White fingerprint powder coated most surfaces like snow and black markers revealed where the bodies and murder weapon had lay.

Elliot paced quietly, careful not to touch anything, his eyes drinking in the scene, memorizing the details. One of the bodies had been found sprawled across the bed, its owner no doubt responsible for the gruesome stain. The marker for the second body lay on the floor, but the amount of blood and brain splatter that decorated the small sofa bed just behind the marker suggested the body had been leaning against it before being hauled away. No cleaner on this earth was going to be able to get that out. Maduro hadn't been kidding. There had been a lot of rage in this room.

Mentally, Elliot began to sift through plausible scenarios. There were no signs of forced entry, other than the ones Elliot had just created. Chad and Harmony must have let their murderer in. Perhaps they found a willing sex partner who changed his/her mind halfway through. There were several obvious stains on the small fabric chair sitting in a corner that were likely from semen. Someone got off. Was it Chad? Or perhaps the mystery lover was male? Maybe all that bravado at the table about "attractive female talent willing to do anything" was just Chad's way of covering up his homosexuality. Not likely. Not based on the way he was coming on to Olivia in the bar. Bisexual maybe. Chad was a big, tall guy. Elliot struggled to imagine a woman overpowering him and then whacking him in the head with a golf club. But stranger things had happened.

Just as Elliot was preparing to leave, his mind stuffed full of theories, the morning sun peeked over the horizon and a beam of light passed into the room through the filmy curtains, glinting off something wedged tightly between the bedpost and the mattress. Frowning, Elliot crouched down and ran his finger between the footboard and the edge of the mattress. A thin, delicate silver bracelet fell silently to the carpet. It was not surprising the crime scene techs had missed it. Elliot likely would have missed it himself had the sun not been shining at the right angle and twinkled off the edge of the thin plate centered in the middle of the strand. Gripping it gingerly between two fingers, Elliot held it up and squinted at it. On the thin silver plate, the initials M.G. were engraved in cursive.

The sound of a keycard sliding into the door lock made Elliot's heart leap up into his throat. Swearing under his breath, he ran for the patio doors, ripping back the curtains and flipping the lock. Just as he clicked the patio doors closed behind him and the curtains swished back into place, he saw the faint outline of a person enter the room. Breathing a sigh of relief and clutching the bracelet, Elliot turned to head back into the resort.

He had taken five steps when he ran directly into Inspector Maduro, standing quietly beside the patio.

"Good morning Mr. Stabler." The politeness of Maduro's words did not extend to his eyes. "Breaking and entering, are we?"


	11. I'm here about Olivia

**Chapter 11 – I'm here about Olivia**

_May 28, 2010 10:01 am_

It was a good thing he was a cop, because he had no future as a criminal.

The concrete wall of the dank holding cell was cold and uncomfortable against Elliot's back as he sat motionless, listening to the quiet buzz of activity around the police station. He could not believe he got busted. Rubbing his eyes, he cursed his ineptness quietly. Even after years of getting into the heads of criminals, Elliot couldn't pull off a simple break and enter.

Resting his head against the unforgiving cement, Elliot listened absently to the complaints of a sobering drunk in the next cell. Through bars built high up into the wall, he could see the sun streaming in. It would have been a beautiful day to be at the beach, soaking up sunshine and admiring Olivia's fantastic body covertly from behind his sunglasses as she tanned in her bikini. Instead, he had been sitting alone in a small holding cell for the last three hours. The irony did not elude him. He came to Aruba to escape the whole judicial scene, and here he was, wrapped up in it so tightly he could barely breathe. He would never hear the end of it from the guys, if he ever made it back to New York.

Sighing, Elliot reached into his pocket, fumbling for the only thing keeping his spirits up at this point. He pulled out the thin silver bracelet, rolling it around in the palm of his hand with his index finger. A potential clue to the mystery visitor, or maybe not. Who knew how long the bracelet had been pinned there, trapped in limbo. It could belong to a guest from 10 months ago for all he knew. Or maybe it was Harmony's. This delicate piece of jewelry could be nothing at all, but it was something. Something that gave him hope there may be an end to this nightmare.

That end would not come as long as he was sitting in the damn cell though. Standing suddenly, Elliot began pacing the floor. He had yet to be charged, but he figured it was coming. He had been caught red-handed, and Maduro was looking for any excuse to lock him away. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What had he been thinking, breaking into that room? Deep down, he knew he needed to solve this case to save his relationship. As a result, he had acted without thinking, without considering the consequences. He was good at that. Now, he was stuck. He desperately wanted to get back to the resort, question the staff, see if anyone recognized the bracelet and could direct him to its owner. Maybe Olivia was back by now. Maybe they could talk, work this out. He wouldn't blame her if she just grabbed her passport and took off on the first flight back home though. He had been a total jerk.

Hearing footsteps in the corridor that led to his cell, Elliot shoved the bracelet into his pocket, seconds before Maduro appeared in front of the bars. He looked pissed.

"Where's your girlfriend Mr. Stabler?" Maduro peered at him in the dim light, eyes dark and dangerous.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Elliot broadened his stance defensively. "I told you. She must have stayed in another room in the hotel last night. We had a fight."

"All is not well in paradise I see." Maduro altered his posture to mirror Elliot's. "I spoke to the desk staff at the resort. Miss Benson did not approach the desk last night or ask for another room. The clerk on duty didn't recall even seeing her."

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Elliot felt a chill go up his spine as Maduro continued. Something was seriously wrong. "Surely she wouldn't be stupid enough to disappear when she is a suspect in a serious crime. Or did her police training teach her nothing? You and I both know this looks extremely suspicious. It is very important we talk to her."

"Believe me, I wish I knew where she was." Elliot's stance softened just a bit and he sat down on the small rickety cot. "I'm worried about her." As much as Elliot hated it, he needed Maduro's help. While he was locked up, he couldn't look for Olivia.

"Look, it isn't like Olivia to disappear for this long. Something must have happened. She could be hurt. Please, you need to go out and look for her. Check the hospitals."

"Don't tell me how to do my job Mr. Stabler. We are looking intently for Miss Benson. We have searched the entire resort and I personally wasted several hours patrolling the beach," Maduro hissed, moving closer to the bars. Elliot could smell his frustration; a frustration he knew well. "When we do find her, you can bet we will have a lot of questions. And she WILL answer them."

Elliot felt his hackles rise at the veiled threat. He stood back up and walked over to the bars, looking menacingly into Maduro's eyes. "If I see any marks on her after you or one of your men question her, you will have to answer to me. And it won't be pretty."

Maduro didn't flinch, meeting Elliot's eyes calmly despite Elliot's size advantage. "Don't threaten me Mr. Stabler."

The intense stare down continued for several moments before Maduro finally pulled his eyes away and nodded to someone standing outside of Elliot's line of sight. There was a sudden buzz, and the cell door opened. Maduro stepped aside and motioned for Elliot to exit the cell.

"You are free to go. The hotel has decided, foolishly, not to press charges against you. They claim nothing is missing, and do not wish any more bad publicity from besmirching the reputation of a decorated, albeit law-breaking, American police officer. But I will be watching you. You stay away from that room and everything else related to this investigation." Shoving his hands into his pockets angrily, Maduro backed up to let Elliot pass. "We consider obstruction of justice a crime in Aruba too Mr. Stabler."

* * *

As soon as he was a block away from the station, Elliot took off at a run in the direction of the resort. The sun was the hottest it had been since they arrived and he was soaked in sweat after just a few blocks. Disoriented, he kept getting turned around in the meandering streets and had to backtrack more than once, his mind on Olivia and the case, not on where he was going.

Half an hour later, he slowed to a walk when the resort came into view. Panting, he stepped quickly through the halls, eager to get back to his room and change before heading out to continue his investigation. His mind was whirling, and he was conflicted on where to start. He wanted to go out and find Olivia, but he didn't know where to look. The police could do that more efficiently. He needed to solve this case and clear her name. That was the only way he could think of to make it up to her, to convince her to forgive him. His first stop would be to the front desk, where he could ask about Olivia AND flash the bracelet.

As Elliot approached his room, all his senses went on high alert. The door to his room was standing open. Heart thumping, he suddenly felt light. Olivia must be back. Breaking into a trot, he closed the distance as quickly as he could, eager to see her. As he rounded the door frame, he crashed directly into a housekeeper's cart. Towels and bottles of cleaning chemicals went flying, eliciting a startled shriek from the housekeeper who stood by the bed, clutching a pile of sheets.

"Sorry," Elliot grunted, bending down to scoop up the scattered articles, piling them back on the cart.

"It's okay." The housekeeper smiled pleasantly, tossing the used sheets in the laundry hamper and picking up the last misplaced bottle. "I won't be long."

"Don't hurry on my account." Elliot noticed with sadness that other than the fresh towels and linens, the room was the same as he had left it. Olivia had not been back. The heavy feeling that was pressing against the pit of his stomach suddenly got heavier.

Turning to head to the front desk, Elliot suddenly had a thought. Pivoting to face the housekeeper, he plastered what he hoped was a charming smile on his lips. 'Excuse me? Do you normally clean this room?"

An uneasy look spread across the housekeeper's face, undoubtedly expecting a complaint. "Yes." Her voice was tentative as she raised her eyes to meet his.

"I found this in my room yesterday night, " Elliot lied, holding out the bracelet for her to see. "It yours?"

Frowning, the housekeeper shook her head. "No sir."

"Hmm. Do you recognize it at all?"

Again, the housekeeper shook her head. "If you want, I can take it with me to the lost and found. It may belong to a previous guest. I assure you, things like that are not normally missed, we clean everything thoroughly, it must-"

Elliot held up a hand to stop her. "It's okay. Thanks for the offer, but I am heading up to the front desk right now. I can take it." Elliot stood there for another moment, acting pensive, and flipped the bracelet over in his hands. "Hmm. It's engraved on the back with the initials "M.G." Maybe that will help the front desk staff figure it out."

"M.G?" The housekeeper inched forward, taking a closer look at the cursive engraving. "There is a front desk clerk here with those initials. Maria Geerman. But she wouldn't have been cleaning this room though. She doesn't clean rooms anymore. She has moved to management, handles the scheduling and deals with housekeeping-related complaints."

"Maria Geerman." Elliot felt his adrenaline start to pump. Potentially a lead. He smiled at the housekeeper. "Thank you for your help. I'll stop at the front desk, see if they have any more information or can find Ms. Geerman."

Turning on his heels, Elliot walked quickly out of the room, heart pounding with excitement. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he almost bowled over a short, older man standing in the hallway, peering into the room. He was dressed in a brown tweed jacket despite the heat, a pair of grey pants, and a scuffed pair of loafers. On his head sat an old-fashioned bowler hat. His face was scruffy with grey stubble and his eyes were kind.

"Excuse me," Elliot mumbled, skirting the man, in a hurry to get to the front desk.

"Are you Elliot?" The man's voice was gravelly and heavily accented.

"Yeah, that's me." Elliot stopped in his tracks and raised his eyebrows, shoving the bracelet back into his pocket. "Can I help you?"

The man shifted his weight uncomfortably, removing his hat and twisting it in his hands, running his finger absently along the brim. Glancing down the hall, he lowered his voice.

"I'm here about Olivia."


	12. The proof is in the pain

**Chapter 12 – The proof is in the pain**

_May 28, 2010 Time Unknown_

If she had to describe it, she would say the sensation was akin to being smothered with a thick, heavy, wool blanket. Or being buried alive. One of the two.

It was a weird sensation to put it mildly. Her head felt like it was floating while the rest of her body was being crushed. Her arms and legs weighed a thousand pounds each - she couldn't fathom moving them, didn't have the energy or desire to even try. Consistent pressure from above, source unknown, held her down, pinned her, suffocated her. It was as if someone had shoved her windpipe in a vise and kept tightening it, inch by painful inch, cutting off her oxygen. All she could manage were short, labored breaths and even those were coming few and farther between.

Instinctively, Olivia knew she was dying.

She had fallen into a dark well in her mind, so deep that no light could reach her. She saw only black and wondered idly if she was going to heaven or hell. At that moment, she felt so horrible she didn't even care. She just prayed for a quick end.

The last few months with Elliot flashed before her eyes. She saw every detail of his handsome face, every beautiful quirk, every unique imperfection. She recalled vividly how nervous he had been that day almost five months ago, when they had walked out of the precinct together, shoulders touching. His divorce had been finalized the day before, and he seemed lighter. He drove her home and, after pulling up in front of her building, proceeded to scramble apprehensively for words. She figured out he was trying to ask her out long before he actually got the words out, but she didn't let him off the hook. That wasn't her style. When he finally did pull it together, she agreed to meet him for dinner the next day. Their first official date.

He brought beautiful, fragrant carnations and handed them to her almost shyly. Her heart swelled with love when she saw him standing awkwardly in the foyer, although he was almost as familiar with her apartment as she was. The rules had changed, and they both knew it. She didn't recall much about dinner, but remembered clearly how he had kissed her suddenly in the elevator on the way back up to her apartment afterwards. Good old impulsive Elliot. It was the best kiss of her life. Warm, sweet, and intense. He had apologized gruffly, mumbling something about not wanting to be too pushy, but he shut up when she kissed him back.

That night, they only made it as far as her couch the first time. The moment had been so long in coming that the bedroom simply seemed too far away. They had waited for years and neither wanted to wait even a second longer. Elliot was a sensitive, thorough, and attentive lover. Ever the gentleman, he initially wanted to stop when he saw the expression of pain in her eyes. She had assured him she would adjust – it had been a while for her and he, well, wasn't lacking in "that" department. Trusting her, he waited patiently, and she did adjust. And it was amazing. As were the second and third times, when they finally did make it to her bedroom. As it was every time thereafter.

Funny, she thought to herself as the air in her lungs grew extremely thin, I thought your whole life was supposed to flash before your eyes before you die. Then she realized it had. Elliot was her whole life now.

Slowly, the images etched in her mind started to fade. Elliot's face distorted and lost definition. Although she clung to it for all she was worth, she knew she couldn't hang on to him much longer. As the images blurred and washed out, the pain struck her with a vengeance. A hot sting started deep in her stomach and spread through her body, as if it had become master of her veins. An acidic burn developed lower, percolating, brewing, before forcing its way up, scalding her esophagus and biting at the back of her throat. She was in too much pain to cry. For a moment, she wondered if she was being tortured. It didn't seem fair - the worse the pain got, the more aware she felt. That was cruel, she decided. It should work the other way around, if there was any mercy in the world.

Suddenly, as if launched from a cannon, an eruption of agony shot up from the depths of her stomach. The force with which it hit shocked her into consciousness, and the first conscious feeling she had was the unpleasant sensation of vomiting. As she threw up, she started to choke, her airways completely blocked by fluid. She was going to aspirate. Hell of a way to die. Just as her body start to let go, as she started to slip away, she felt hands on her, rolling her onto her side. Quickly her airways drained and her lungs screamed for breath.

"Good, that's good." Olivia could barely hear the soft, unfamiliar voice that suddenly floated in the air beside her ear. She wanted to open her eyes, to attach a face to the voice, but it felt as if her eyelids were glued shut. She struggled against the darkness until she felt a comforting hand on her forehead. "It's okay. Just rest," the voice urged her gently. Unable to resist, Olivia slipped back out of consciousness.

* * *

_May 28, 2010 11:23 am_

The next time Olivia stirred, her senses were functioning far better. Listening idly as she lay motionless, she could hear someone humming a nameless tune and the clatter of pots on a stove. The room smelt of delicious spices and warm baking. Unfortunately, the taste in her mouth was anything but delicious. Olivia could feel a soft mattress beneath her and a light, fuzzy blanket thrown on top of her. Her body ached as if someone had taken a baseball bat to it, but she was alive. The proof was in the pain.

When her eyelids didn't feel so unbearably heavy, she lifted them slowly. At first, she was greeted with nothing but a white blur. Blinking rapidly, she feared she had lost her sight until her eyes adjusted to the light filtering in through a window. Finally, she was able to take in her surroundings. She found herself in a tiny, cramped room, stuffed to overflowing with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a lot of photos and personal accoutrements. It certainly wasn't her apartment – this room was too homey. So where the hell was she? Suddenly, like a tidal wave, everything came crashing back. Aruba, Chad, her fight with Elliot, her walk by the ocean. Disoriented, Olivia pushed herself up into a sitting position, feeling her survival gear kick in. She needed to figure out what was going on to regain some control over her situation. Glancing down, she realized she was clad in baggy sweats, her own clothes nowhere in sight, and she had no recollection at all of arriving at her current location.

"You're awake." A gentle voice in the doorway startled Olivia, and reflexively she pulled the blanket around herself protectively. The gentle voice, the same voice from earlier, belonged to an older woman with a friendly smile. Her face was deeply tanned and weathered, her frame sturdy and covered in a calico dress, her eyes green and twinkling. She spoke in clear but accented English as she wiped her hands on her white cotton apron. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a train." Olivia's voice was raspy and she coughed, feeling fluid slosh angrily in her lungs. Her arms were shaky as she propped herself up. In that moment, she felt horribly vulnerable and at the mercy of this kind stranger.

"That's not surprising. You've been through a lot in the last 12 hours."

"I can't remember any of it . . ." Irritated with herself, Olivia shook her head as if that would jar her memory. All it did was make her neck hurt.

"My name is Carina Croes. My husband, Erroll, found you, unconscious, washed up on the beach around midnight last night. He's a fisherman. He was out dropping traps until the storm forced him in and he stumbled across you. He gave you CPR and brought you back here. You were delusional, running a high fever. Do you remember any of that?"

Olivia shook her head. "No."

"You had been pretty beaten up by the heavy waters. You bumped your head." Carina's eyes flit to Olivia's forehead, and Olivia's hand flew up there reflexively, finding a large lump. Even a slight brush of it with her fingers made her wince. "It was bleeding pretty badly last night. It's better now."

"Was I taken to the hospital?"

Carina shook her head. "No. I'm afraid we don't put much faith in modern medicine here. We live in a traditional fishing village. It's a bit of a trip to the closest hospital. Erroll brought you here instead. I used to work as a nurse in the village. We monitored your fever, gave you natural herbs. You were soaked to the bone, freezing cold. We put you in dry clothes." Carina nodded toward Olivia's outfit. "Sorry I couldn't find anything a bit more flattering."

Olivia smiled in spite of herself as Carina continued. "Had you gotten any worse, we would have had to take you to the village doctor. But your fever broke earlier this morning. You just needed to get all that sea water out of your system. Your color came back after I gave you some juice and a bit of soup a little over an hour ago."

"I don't remember any of that either," Olivia mused, gingerly tracing around the painful bump.

Carina lowered herself onto a chest that sat jammed against the end of the bed. "You were in and out of consciousness for hours. We couldn't get much information out of you. All you could tell us, after much prodding during a moment of lucidity, was your name. It is Olivia, right?"

"Yes." Olivia started to nod but quickly stopped. Nodding hurt.

"Good." Carina smiled warmly and Olivia felt a rush of gratitude toward the older woman. "You are a tough girl Olivia."

"Tough or not, you saved my life. Thank you." Olivia felt her throat close up as the gravity of what had happened sunk in. She really could have died. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she swiped at them, embarrassed.

"Nonsense. It's just what we do." Carina dismissed her thanks with a wave of the hand. Reaching over, she patted Olivia's knee through the blanket. "Now, where are you staying? Erroll and I assumed you were a tourist. Most people down on the beach are nowadays."

"I'm staying at the Rio." Olivia gingerly swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the soreness in her muscles and the catch in her lungs. All the sea water obviously hadn't been purged yet.

Carina frowned. "That's quite a distance down the island. Several miles at least from where Erroll found you. How did you end up down this end of the beach?"

"My boyfriend and I had a fight. I walked out on him. I ended up down by the ocean, and just kept walking. " Olivia smiled wryly. "Not the smartest thing to do in the midst of a thunderstorm, I know. I wasn't thinking. I was . . . upset."

"Elliot must be very worried about you."

"I-" Olivia cut herself off, eyes widening in surprise. "How do you know his name?"

"You asked for him repeatedly when your fever was at its worst. And mumbled his name many times throughout the night." Carina stood and glanced into the kitchen, where the sound of boiling water had just become audible. "You need to lay back down and rest. Erroll has gone looking for Elliot. We don't have a phone here. It's at times like this I wish we did. We couldn't call around, and we didn't know exactly where you were staying, so Erroll planned to stop at all the resorts and ask around for an Elliot and Olivia." Carina's eyes became distant and she smiled fondly. "He's a good man, my Erroll." Then, as if remembering Olivia was still in the room, her eyes focused again and she clapped her hands. "I'm going to make some food for us. Enough talking for now. You lay back down and rest. I will wake you when it's ready. And I'm sure your Elliot will be here soon."

Olivia's best attempt at a smile wavered weakly. She suddenly felt horribly sad and distressed about everything that had gone down with Elliot. She should have told him about Chad. She should have respected his anger more, tried harder to empathize with what he must have been feeling. She should have listened, instead of getting angry. If she had died, the last thing she would have said to him was "Screw you."

Carina seemed to sense the change in Olivia's mood. She came over and sat beside her on the bed, hugging her with one arm. "Don't worry dear. Erroll will find your Elliot and tell him what happened."

Olivia tried again to smile bravely, but it came out more as a grimace. In her mind, she heard the harsh words she had spoken to Elliot, and the angry words he had thrown back. "Thanks Carina. You're right, I'm sure Erroll will find him. I'm just not sure that Elliot is going to care."


	13. I want to promise you something

**Chapter 13 – I want to promise you something**

_May 28, 2010 12:17 pm_

Going through hell made her appreciate the soup. The soup was heavenly.

As the midday sun cast changing shadows around the room, Olivia sat at a small wooden table covered with a plaid tablecloth, wolfing down the divine soup. The broth was warm and delicious, filled with chunks of fresh vegetables and thick noodles. She savored the medley of spices as her taste buds danced merrily. She could not remember ever eating anything that tasted as good as this soup, not even on her rare forays to expensive five star restaurants. Even the water tasted extraordinary here, as if it had come directly from a fresh, clear, sparkling spring.

Olivia was halfway through her second heaping bowl when her stomach finally began feeling comfortably sated. Slowly, her body started to come back to its old self. She would probably have been feeling outstanding if it weren't for the throbbing lump on her head and the black and blue bruises that kept appearing on her body.

Carina sat quietly, nursing a tea while watching Olivia with an amused expression. Realizing she probably looked like a savage digging into her bowl so enthusiastically, Olivia blushed and wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin.

"Sorry, I'm being rude. Your soup is just so delicious."

"Don't apologize. It makes me happy when someone enjoys my cooking. It's an old family recipe." Carina smiled warmly, taking a sip of her tea. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Another thing I can't remember," Olivia admitted, swallowing another tasty spoonful.

"Well, eat up. Your body needs it."

Eating a bit slower now, Olivia's eyes scanned the room, absorbing the rustic charm. The house was a small one-level with two tiny bedrooms, one bath, and a large open area that served as kitchen, living room, and dining room all rolled into one. It was crowded, but in a soothing way, with lots of flowers, artwork, and miscellaneous artifacts. Hanging on the wall behind the kitchen table was a picture of Carina with a man Olivia assumed was Erroll and another younger woman, probably in her late teens or early twenties.

"Is that your daughter?" Olivia asked, pointing to the picture between sips of water.

Carina glanced up and looked at the picture quickly before dropping her eyes. Her voice was low when she finally answered. "Yes. That's Gabrielle."

Sensing she had hit a sore spot, Olivia turned her attention back to her food, kicking herself silently. When Carina spoke again, Olivia felt even worse. "She died five years ago."

"I'm sorry." Olivia lay down her spoon and looked at the older woman sympathetically. "She was so young."

"Yes. She was only twenty-five when she died. She moved to America when she was twenty-two. She wanted to be an actress, or a singer. Or both. She couldn't decide." Carina smiled wistfully, her eyes miles away.

"She's beautiful."

"Yes, she was," Carina agreed. "She looked a lot like you actually. Same cheekbones, same hair color, same eyes." She sighed softly. "Gabrielle found out quickly that being beautiful and talented isn't always enough in show business. She never gave up though. We begged her to come home, but she said she wanted to stay in America, keep going to auditions. Somewhere along the way, she got involved with drugs. She overdosed, days after her twenty-fifth birthday." Pushing back her chair and standing up, Carina walked over to the sink and rinsed out her cup, gazing through the frilly shear that covered the small kitchen window.

Grabbing her now empty bowl, Olivia walked over beside the older woman and put it in the sink. Gently, Olivia reached over and gave her a hug, empathizing with her sorrow. "I'm sorry," Olivia said again, knowing how empty and useless those words were, but unable to think of any others.

Carina hugged her back tightly. When she pulled away, unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

"I need some fresh air. How about you and I go for a walk?"

* * *

It was a bit like stepping back in time as Olivia and Carina strolled through the small fishing village. Houses were simple and the streets were mostly dirt and cobblestone, travelled more frequently by bicycles than cars. Chickens mingled with people on the sidewalks and laundry was hung out to dry, fluttering softly in the wind.

Olivia had changed back into her own clothes, which Carina had graciously washed. It was comforting to be dressed in something familiar, because otherwise she felt like she was through the looking glass. The sun was hot and sweat trickled down her spine as they quietly walked down the streets, enjoying the scenery. Other villagers greeted Carina and glanced curiously at Olivia. It was like being in a different world, different even than the atmosphere at the resort, although the two locations occupied the same island. The crash of the ocean was audible in the distance as Carina and Olivia avoided a game of kick ball in the streets. The clean air felt amazing as it flowed into Olivia's sore lungs.

"So tell me about your Elliot," Carina began conversationally, linking her arm through Olivia's and winking at her as they walked. The mere mention of Elliot's name made Olivia smile.

"Elliot is . . . wonderful. I don't know how else to describe him. He's kind, and gentle. He has the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met. He comes across as a little gruff sometimes, but underneath the tough outer shell there is a big softie." Olivia smiled affectionately at the thought of her lover. "We worked together for a long time, over 10 years. I think I was in love with him for most of those ten years, not that I would have admitted that to him, or to myself. He was married, but there was chemistry between us. It's hard to explain. But we never acted on it," Olivia amended quickly. "Not until he was officially divorced. Then it all seemed to happen so quickly, so naturally. It was all going wonderfully, until the last few days."

"What were you fighting about last night?"

Olivia sighed and winced at the ache in her ribs and the echoing twinge in her heart. "Something that happened on the resort. Elliot was being jealous and possessive. I felt like he didn't trust me, and that made me angry." Olivia blew out a slow breath. "I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him. But yet he thought I was coming on to some other guy. It was hard to hear. I got angry. It all went downhill from there. I know I said some things I regret."

"I'm sure he regrets some of the things he said too."

Olivia shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Elliot is still getting over his marriage and working on smoothing things over with his kids. There is no room in his heart to truly love me right now. I'm sure he cares for me. But he just can't love me the way I love him."

"You don't know that for sure dear. Only Elliot can know that. Let it work its way out. Just talk to him."

"I'll try. If he'll talk to me.

The women walked in silence for awhile, Olivia lost in thoughts of Elliot. What would she say to him the next time she saw him? What would he say to her?

"The Rio . . ." Carina's soft voice suddenly broke into Olivia's thoughts. The older woman was frowning slightly, gazing thoughtfully at the houses on the right hand side of the street. "Isn't that where that young couple was killed?"

"Yes," Olivia confirmed, carefully omitting the fact that she and Elliot were considered suspects in their deaths.

"Their deaths have been the talk of the village. No one is really surprised."Carina shook her head sadly. "Still, no one deserves to die."

"Why was no one really surprised?" asked Olivia, squinting curiously at Carina.

"We believe in karma. Chad Roundhouse was well-known around the village. He visited here often. Promoting his agency to the youth. I never met him, but I saw him around. He wasn't interested in talking to oldies like me. He talked mostly to the village's young women." Carina chuckled, but her eyes were melancholy. "He was the one who convinced Gabrielle to go to America. Put these stars in her eyes. Paid her airfare there, put her up in a hotel until she met with people at his agency. They said she didn't have "it". Whatever "it" was. Then she was on her own." Carina shook her head again. "I never liked him, but I wouldn't wish death on anyone."

"I can completely understand why you didn't like him," Olivia mumbled, recalling their fateful interaction in the bar. He had been far sleazier than she ever realized.

"He certainly wasn't popular here, except with star struck youngsters. He would show up, charm them, fill their heads with these grandiose visions of being a movie star in America, and then cart them away." Carina sighed resignedly. "Most of them never came back. Few people in this village could afford to send their child the airfare, so the child was stuck in America. They would get a minimum wage job, usually doing something under the table because they didn't have the proper work clearance, and struggle to make ends meet, never able to save enough to afford a plane ticket home. Some lost hope and are still living there in a rut of depression, writing home only occasionally. Some died, like Gabrielle." Carina swallowed hard but kept a stoic face. "It's torn families apart in this village. A lot of people blame Chad."

Olivia felt anger start to simmer in her veins. Anger at Chad, anger at his employer for exploiting the people of this quaint little village. Still, she was a detective, and she noted carefully that there were a lot of people in this village who had motive for murder. Including Carina and her husband.

"Some also claim he coerced the young women into sleeping with him before he would agree to take them back to America." Stopping in her tracks, Carina suddenly made the sign of the cross and glanced up at the sky. "Look at me, speaking ill of the dead. How horrible."

"Some people deserve to be spoken ill of, even in death," muttered Olivia. She now wished with all her heart that she had let Elliot pummel the grease ball.

"See that house up there?" Carina suddenly pointed to a small house, tucked into the end of a dead end street. Its brick façade was peeling, and the garden overflowed with a mixture of flowers and weeds. "My friend, Edwina Geerman, lives there. She has seven children, six girls and one boy. All are teenagers or older now. Chad Roundhouse whisked away four of the girls over the years. None have come back. Two are working as waitresses in small towns. One died in a traffic accident. One was arrested for prostitution." Carina smiled sadly. "Edwina used to take such good care of her home, took such pride in it. She's widowed, and watching her children disappear one by one has destroyed her. I barely even see her anymore. It's a shame."

The pair lapsed into silence as they continued ambling down the streets. The sun shone cheerfully, but Olivia felt a sudden weight on her shoulders, placed there by the knowledge of what had happened to many of the young residents here. Preyed on by a predator and his employer.

"Carina, I want to promise you something." Olivia stopped suddenly, gently grabbing the older woman's arm and stopping her forward motion. Carina turned and looked at her curiously. "When I get back to America, I am going to do some research on Chad Roundhouse's company. I am going to get to the bottom of what they are doing. If they are doing anything illegal or immoral, I promise you I will try to shut them down."

Carina smiled gently, grabbing Olivia's hand and giving it a soft squeeze. One lone tear appeared in the corner of her eye and slipped down her cheek, disappearing before Olivia was even sure she saw it. "That would mean a lot to me. Thank you."

"It's the least I can do," Olivia whispered as Carina hugged her and kissed her cheek softly.

Smiling, Carina turned back to the road, looking a little lighter than before. "Thank you for the walk and talk sweetheart."

"Are we back already?" Olivia asked, surprised. Sure enough, they were standing by the back garden of Carina's small house, tropical vegetation peeking out between the brown fence posts. Carina led the way into the house, scaling the front steps and kicking the dirt off her shoes.

Hanging back slightly, Olivia was just about to broach the subject of heading back to the resort when she caught sight of a familiar figure in Carina's living room, looking far too large for the tiny couch he was seated on. Her mouth went dry and her heart started to pound when he looked up and met her eyes. Warmth and hope washing over her, she opened her mouth and breathed his name.

"Elliot . . ."


	14. No one else

**Chapter 14 – No one else**

_May 28, 2010 3:03 pm_

He couldn't get her into his arms fast enough.

Elliot had been sitting on the small, maroon loveseat, twisting his hands nervously and scanning the small room absently when she walked in. His heart leapt at the sight of her and a wave of relief warmed his extremities. Olivia looked ragged and tired, but she was alive. Her hair hung disheveled, her complexion was mottled, and her clothes were battered. To him, she had never, ever been more beautiful.

When their eyes met across the small room, he feared what he would see in hers. Would it be anger? Disappointment? Disgust? Ambivalence? Had he seen any of those emotions, he would have hesitated, would have let her approach him when she was ready. But none of those feelings were present in her soft, dark, molten eyes. All that lingered there was warmth and happiness, mixed with a bit of uncertainty as she scanned his face for the same negative sentiments. Any hesitations he may have had were gone when she smiled at him and whispered "Elliot . . ."

Elliot was off the couch and across the room in four long strides. Olivia's lower lip trembled and tears pricked her eyes as he pulled her into his arms, tangling one hand in her hair while the other tugged her tight against him. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his neck and hugging him closer than she ever had before.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Elliot rested his nose in Olivia's hair, dropping a gentle kiss on the crown of her head, fighting desperately to keep his emotions under control. After what felt like months of worrying about her, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. Finally, she was in his arms again, safe.

Gently, she withdrew from his embrace, reaching up and pulling his mouth down to hers. The kiss was hot, passionate, and forceful, both parties desperately trying to translate all of their feelings into that one action. His hands cupped her face while hers ran through his close cropped hair and down his neck. If they could have had it their way, that kiss would have lasted forever, but they were only mere mortals and eventually they needed to breathe. As they both gasped for breath, Elliot rested his forehead softly against Olivia's, his thumbs following the line of her jaw lightly.

Wrapping her arms back around him, Olivia murmured "I'm sorry El. I'm sorry I walked away. I'm sorry I got angry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I love you."

Elliot shook his head fiercely. "No, don't apologize Liv. I'm the one who's sorry. I was a total jerk. The things I said about Stuckey and Porter. Thinking that you had been flirting with Chad. I was totally out of line. It's no excuse, but I was really upset. The thought of another man with his hands on you just . . . made me crazy." Gently, Elliot pulled back and kissed her forehead. "I trust you." Olivia felt herself melt as she lay her head on his chest, feeling peace wash over her, oblivious to everything else around them, lost in the feeling of being in his arms.

Elliot moved to brush her hair away from her face, but jerked his hand away when she gasped and winced. Frowning, he carefully peeled a few strands of hair away from her forehead and caught sight of the huge lump, as obvious as a mountain on grassland, the top still glistening red with fresh blood.

"Baby," he choked, stroking her hair gently as he closed his eyes and swallowed the lump that filled his throat. Erroll had told him the story on the car ride to the village, but he didn't really appreciate just how close Olivia had come to dying until he saw the lump and took in the scrapes and scratches that blemished her pristine skin.

"Hey, look at me." Elliot felt Olivia's soft hand against his cheek, her thumb stroking over the day old stubble. Slowly, he opened his eyes and met hers, breathing deeply. "I'm okay El." Her concern for his distress made him choke up again and he tried to cover it by pulling her into him for another hug. He didn't deserve her.

"Please don't ever scare me like that again. If I had lost you . . ." He let that thought hang in the air, uncompleted, neither one of them wishing to contemplate the answer.

"I'm right here." Olivia laced her fingers with Elliot's and rested their joined hands against her cheek, kissing his fingers softly. "Carina has been taking excellent care of me." Turning to introduce Elliot to the older woman, she found they were alone in the room. Frowning, she spun around, her eyes roaming the small space. "Carina?"

At the sound of her name, Carina's head popped out of the bedroom, a wide smile on her weathered face. "Right here dear. We just thought we would give you two a few minutes alone." Carina and Erroll emerged from the cramped bedroom, holding hands, and introductions began.

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, Carina gently elbowed Olivia in the side.

"Now Olivia, shame on you. You told me many good things about your Elliot, but you never mentioned how extremely handsome he is!"

Olivia smiled up at Elliot affectionately. "Yeah, he's okay looking." As Elliot scowled playfully at her, warm laughter filled the small home. When it died down, Elliot grew serious and somber.

"Mr. and Mrs. Croes, there are no words to thank you as much as I want to. For what you did for Olivia. And for me."

Both Erroll and Carina smiled, their eyes twinkling when they looked at each other.

"No need to thank us. We just did what was right," Erroll said, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders affectionately and kissing her cheek.

"Now Elliot," Carina stepped forward, taking Elliot's arm and pulling him aside conspiratorially, although both Erroll and Olivia could hear everything she said in the small room. "Olivia might act tough, and she might tell you that she doesn't need you to take care of her, but let me tell you something. When she was at her worst last night, you were the one she wanted. No one else. There was no comfort for her without you. Remember that."

Raising his eyes, Elliot shot a small smile at Olivia over Carina's head, which she returned genuinely.

"I will. I promise."

"Good!" Carina clapped her hands and walked back to stand beside Erroll. "Now, if you two really want to thank us, there IS one thing you can do."

"Anything," Olivia agreed sincerely, slipping her hand into Elliot's.

Carina smiled, her eyes sparkling joyfully. "Go back to the resort, and enjoy the rest of your vacation!"

* * *

The steam from the shower fogged the bathroom mirror, blurring the reflected images.

Using the sleeve of her fluffy white hotel bathrobe, Olivia cleared the mirror, the soft squeak mixing with the steady rhythm of water striking the ceramic tub. When she caught a glimpse of her reflection, she wished she had left it blurry. Leaning on the sink basin, Olivia examined the damage to her face. Joining the sore bump on her forehead, she had several gouges down her left cheek, as if she had dragged it across a sharp stick. On her right cheekbone, a gray-blue bruise festered.

"Just got off the phone with Maduro. He'll be here in about thirty minutes." Elliot stepped into the bathroom, hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts, jaw working thoughtfully.

"Something to look forward to," Olivia muttered. Sliding her hand into the shower stall past the flowered shower curtain, she checked the water temperature. Just about right.

"Best we're up front with him." Elliot leaned back against the wall, running a hand over his face. "We didn't do anything wrong. May as well answer his questions."

"Yeah, I know. It's just a pain." Olivia sighed, rolling her neck to relieve some of the tension. "All I really want to do is order room service and curl up in bed."

"I know babe. I'm sure his questions won't take long. Take your time in the shower. If he gets here a bit early, I'll stall him."

Tossing a towel over the bar of the shower curtain, Olivia sauntered over to Elliot, her eyes shining impishly. Pressing herself against him lightly, her fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, nimbly but slowly unbuttoning them. As the buttons slipped open one at a time, her fingertips grazed over his chest. He watched her intently and she could feel his breath quickening under her hands. When all the buttons were undone, she let her hands travel up, the backs of her fingers brushing against his soft skin. Sliding her hands under his collar, she pushed it back, gently dropping fluttering kisses along his collarbone. She felt him shiver pleasantly when she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and slid it down his arms, dropping it to the floor. When she looked up at him, her eyes were bottomless, sensual pools.

"Wash my back?" she breathed, quirking one corner of her lips up into a smile.

Elliot grinned, wrapping his arms around her and letting his hands rest on the small of her back. "As tempting as that sounds, Maduro will be here soon. If I get in that shower with you, I am not going to be able to control myself. He has already interrupted us once. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of doing it a second time."

Olivia nuzzled his neck playfully. "You said we have about thirty minutes."

"I don't think I can or want to be that fast," he murmured, tightening his arms around her. Despite his words, she could feel him melting and his resolve wavering.

Slowly, Olivia stepped back, her eyes boring into his. Dropping one hand down, she toyed with the belt of her robe before deftly undoing it. As Elliot's eyes took in her every movement, Olivia slipped the robe off her shoulders seductively, letting it pool around her feet like a melting snow bank.

"Please?" she purred, kissing the crook of his jaw lightly.

Elliot groaned deep in his throat, his eyes raking over her body hungrily. "That's not fair. You're playing dirty." Grabbing her hips, he pulled her back against him, cupping her face and kissing her heatedly. "And it's working. Let's get in the shower."

* * *

"Okay, so I was wrong," Elliot admitted, soaping up his hands fifteen minutes later. "I can be that fast."

Olivia laughed cheerfully. "Yes, but in the most wonderful way."

Elliot grinned contently, gently turning Olivia around and letting his soapy hands caress her back and shoulders. Closing her eyes, she drew her hair out of his way and sighed happily. His hands felt wonderful. Softly, he kneaded all of the knots in her back individually and she felt all her remaining tension run away with the water. Between Elliot's hands and the needling water, she was so relaxed she could almost have fallen asleep right there.

Leaning her hands against the shower wall, she let the hot water course over her head and down her shoulders. It felt wonderful to remove all the crusty salt and grit from her skin. When Elliot finished massaging her back, he shampooed her hair. His hands felt incredible against her scalp and she went pleasantly limp.

"If only the rest of our stay could be as relaxing as this," she mumbled, half asleep and enjoyably dopey.

"Maybe it can. Maybe Maduro will get his brain in gear, find the real killer, and leave us alone." Elliot washed the shampoo out of her hair and applied conditioner thoughtfully.

"Maybe. It's about time something went our way." As the conditioner rinsed out of her hair, she removed the soap from the dish and began soaping Elliot's chest.

"Make sure you tell Maduro about the Croes," Elliot advised, watching Olivia absently. "They can back up your story, so he won't think you were avoiding him or making plans to disappear."

"I will." Olivia sighed, thinking back to her conversation with Carina. "You know, Chad was well-known around that village. And definitely not welcome. A lot of people there would have motive for offing him." Olivia shared Carina's story as she soaped Elliot's abs.

"That guy was a real piece of garbage." Elliot shook his head disbelievingly.

"You aren't kidding. Carina told me about one of her friends, Edwina Geerman. He charmed four of her six daughters into leaving the island with him. Can you imagine? Losing a huge chunk of your family to that scuzz ball."

When Olivia's words registered, Elliot froze, grabbing her hands and stilling her movement. "What did you say the friend's name was?"

Olivia frowned, dropping the soap back into the dish. "Edwina Geerman. Why?"

Elliot's mind flew to the bracelet and his conversation with the housekeeper. Maria Geerman. Coincidence?

"El? What's wrong?" Olivia, noticing his sudden distraction, used her hand on his jaw to get his attention.

"Geerman. That's the second time I have heard that name today." Elliot reached around the shower curtain, grabbing a towel and stepping out of the shower. "Stay here and talk to Maduro. I've got to go find someone."


	15. All you could think about was revenge

**Chapter 15 – All you could think about was revenge**

_May 28, 2010 5:12 pm_

It never failed.

Normally at this time the resort hallways were empty, the residents out enjoying the last remnants of another day's beautiful sunshine. Today, when Elliot was in a hurry, they were packed with people. A new busload of visitors had arrived, all mingling and chattering excitedly as they dragged their luggage into their rooms. Irritated, Elliot squeezed through them, mumbling apologies and earning appreciative glances and one cat call from a group of young twenty-something women all wearing matching tank tops with "bachelorette party" printed on the front.

The front desk was correspondingly busy, and Elliot had to wait for what felt like forever to get to the front of the line. When he finally got to speak to a harried clerk, he was informed Ms. Geerman was just leaving for the day. Not to be denied, Elliot lied, claiming he had a serious issue with the cleanliness of his room that could not wait until tomorrow. Only then did the clerk grudgingly direct him to her office, five doors down the marble hall.

Maria Geerman was slipping on her sunglasses and rooting through her purse when Elliot rapped on her glass office door. Startled, she jumped, hand flying to her chest reflexively.

"Maria Geerman?" Elliot stood in the doorway, ice blue eyes assessing her carefully.

"Yes. Can I help you?" Maria snapped her purse closed and returned his gaze, a decidedly uneasy look on her face. She was a beautiful woman, with long, dark hair, olive skin, and intelligent green eyes. She was tall, with long legs, and dressed fashionably. It was not a stretch to imagine Chad pursuing her or inviting her to his room. She looked like a model.

"My name is Elliot Stabler. I'm staying in Room 258."

"What can I do for you Mr. Stabler?" The glance at her wrist watch and shift of her weight suggested to Elliot she was eager to escape and begin her evening. He was not going to let her go that easily.

"Actually, I'm hoping I can do something for you." Crossing the office threshold, Elliot reached into his pocket and slowly withdrew the bracelet, rolling it between his fingers. "I found something. One of your colleagues suggested it may belong to you."

Raising her eyebrows quizzically, Maria walked over to meet him in the middle of her office. The instant she lay her eyes on the bracelet, he knew he had a hit.

"My bracelet," she exclaimed, plucking it from his hand. "Thank you. I was wondering where I lost that."

"I found it in Chad and Harmony Roundhouse's room." Elliot's eyes never left her face and he felt a rush of adrenaline when her body went completely rigid. He was on the right track.

Keeping her eyes glued to the bracelet, Maria attached it around her wrist, fingers trembling slightly. He took the opportunity to push harder. "Any idea how it might have gotten in there?"

"No." Maria shook her head furiously. "Maybe one of the Roundhouses saw it on the hallway floor and picked it up."

"Possible. I found it stuck in their bed though. Seems like a weird place to put it. Why not just turn it in?"

Maria walked back to her desk stiffly and picked up her purse, tossing the strap over her shoulder. When she finally looked up and met his eyes, her smile was weak and unconvincing. "I don't know. Regardless, thank you for finding it. I really must get going."

Trying to keep her head high, Maria went to brush past him, but Elliot caught her arm.

"Maria, I'm a police officer in America, and I really want to solve this case for personal reasons. " His eyes bore into her face intently. "I need you to think very carefully. How do you think that bracelet got into their room, into their bed?"

Maria met his eyes again but had to look away quickly. Clearing her throat, she tried to force her voice to be steely, but it came out warbled. "I don't need to explain anything to you."

"I think you do." Lowering his voice to a rough whisper, Elliot took a risk. "I know that you were with Chad that night. I know he seduced you, promised he would make you a big movie star in the United States. I know you slept with him."

As Maria studiously looked anywhere but at him, Elliot could see her crumbling. He knew instinctively she was weighing the pros and cons of talking to him. He waited patiently and, after a few moments of tense silence, the pros won out.

"Yes, I slept with him." Maria's shoulders slumped in defeat and a hand flew up to massage her neck absently. Elliot dropped her other arm and straightened up, smelling blood, sensing he was getting closer to the truth. Blocking her exit, he decided to turn up the heat.

"You had sex with him. Things got out of hand. You killed him."

Maria's eyes widened and panic flooded them, pooling in the whites and spreading to her irises. "No! No! I didn't kill him. I had sex with him. That was it. When I left, both he and his wife were alive. I swear."

Lowering his voice conspiratorially, Elliot stepped closer and hovered over her. "Maria, it's okay. It was self-defense."

"No! I didn't kill them!" Maria's voice rose several octaves and she snapped her mouth shut, glancing nervously outside. Seeing the hall was still empty, she lowered her voice and continued. "He was going to make me famous. Why would I kill him?"

"Come on Maria, don't be naïve. He just told you that to get in your pants. Obviously, it worked."

"I don't have to listen to this." Maria dropped her sunglasses over her eyes, her hands shaking visibly. "When I left that room, they were both alive. I left just after midnight and went straight home. Ask my mother. I was home by one o'clock. The Inspector told us they were killed after that."

"Your mother Edwina Geerman?"

Maria pushed her sunglasses back up, shocked. "How do you know who my mother is?"

Ignoring the question, Elliot crossed his arms over his chest. "You had four other sisters who were all charmed by Chad and then taken away. All you could think about was revenge, getting back at him for destroying your family."

"That's not true! " Tears sprung to Maria's eyes and her bottom lip trembled. "He gave them the chance of a lifetime. It wasn't his fault they couldn't take advantage of it! I would have been different!"

For a moment, Elliot actually felt sorry for her. Another naïve young girl duped, seduced by the bright lights. Softening his posture and his tone, he dropped a hand on her shoulder. "Maria, was there anyone else in the room with you and the Roundhouses?"

"No," Maria raised her chin defiantly but still struggled to make eye contact. Grabbing her purse, she pushed past him, heels clicking sharply on the floor. When she got to the door of her office, she swung back around, her face now hard as stone. "I don't know anything about their murder. Now leave me alone."

* * *

The halls had quieted down when Elliot made the return trip back to his room, mind whirling and body tense. Like a good hunter, he sensed he was closing in on his prey. His gut told him that Maria was telling the truth, but also that she was holding something back. She may not be the killer, but after talking to her, he felt closer to finding whoever was. Still, he would need to check Maria's alibi, talk to her mother, see if she had indeed been home when she claimed. Maybe check out the other siblings too while he was there, see if either one of them would have had opportunity.

The room was equally as quiet as the hallways when Elliot walked back in, tossing his keycard on the dresser. A light was still on in the bathroom but the water wasn't running anymore. He glanced outside, thinking maybe Olivia and Maduro had gone out to the patio to talk, but the curtains were drawn, and he couldn't make out any shapes except the two empty patio chairs. Maduro must have been running behind.

"Liv? Babe?" Elliot stretched, rolling his shoulders backward to relieve some of the anticipatory tension. "Just had an interesting conversation with Maria Geerman. We may have a lead."

When his comment was greeted by silence, Elliot frowned, feeling a nervous twinge pinch his gut. Stepping quickly, he turned the corner into the bathroom and came face-to-face with the business end of a revolver.


	16. Your timing is impeccable

**Chapter 16 – Your timing is impeccable**

_May 28, 2010 6:06 pm _

Maduro didn't believe her. Not for a second. She could see it in his eyes. In his facial expressions. In his posture.

At least this time, Olivia felt more in control. Despite the previous evening's events, she felt a thousand times better than she had the last time she was on the defensive in that tiny, sauna-like office. Maduro insisted they return to that office rather than talking in her room, undoubtedly trying to intimidate her once more, but she was showered, clean, and endorphins lingered in her system thanks to Elliot. It was a huge improvement over plummeting blood sugar and failing blood pressure. She was ready for whatever he threw at her.

Olivia sat stoically, legs crossed, damp hair pulled back into a ponytail, eyes cool as she observed Maduro. He paced around the office, hands clasped behind his back as he listened to her recount the events of the last twenty-four hours. When she had finished, his eyes flickered over to her, hard and skeptical.

"So you expect me to believe that last night, after I explicitly asked you not to leave the resort without notifying me, that you had a "near death experience" and spent the night unconscious in a small fishing village?" Maduro raised his eyebrows suspiciously. "Sounds pretty farfetched to me."

Olivia shrugged, brushing a loose piece of mahogany hair away from her face. "Whether you believe me or not, that's what happened."

Maduro stopped pacing suddenly and faced her, leaning over his desk. Resting his hands on the smooth wooden top, he bent closer to her, his breath hot on her face. "If you are lying to me . ." Maduro left that comment unfinished, his voice rough with threat, but Olivia did not back down. Instead, she leaned forward and matched his harsh gaze.

"I'm not. And I can prove it." Olivia grabbed a yellow pad of paper and pen from his side of the desk and jotted down Carina's name and address. Pushing it back across the table at him, she leaned back in her seat smugly, folding her hands in her lap. "Check it out."

Maduro's jaw worked under the weathered skin of his face as he stared at her silently. Suddenly, he pushed back away and started to pace again, the heels of his dress shoes clicking on the linoleum. Sensing his frustration and tension, Olivia almost felt sorry for him.

"Look, maybe I can help you. I am a detective too after all." Olivia softened both her tone and posture as she watched him pace restlessly. In some ways, he reminded her of Elliot.

"I am fully capable of doing my job Miss Benson." Maduro's tone was so sharp it stabbed at her ear drums.

"I'm sure you are." Olivia spoke quietly, her eyes never leaving his face. "So am I. But that doesn't mean we can't use some help every now and again." Maduro's stride faltered, but he refused to look at her, his shoulders as ramrod straight and stiff as a board.

When he remained silent, Olivia spoke again.

"Elliot has a lead. Someone here at the hotel. Someone who may have a reason to hate Chad Roundhouse enough to want him dead."

Surprised, Maduro's head snapped up and he squinted at her. "Who?"

Olivia shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Elliot left the room about 45 minutes ago, saying he needed to go talk to someone. Right after I mentioned the name Geerman." Maduro initially looked shocked at this disclosure, but he shoved that emotion away quickly before speaking.

"Did it ever cross your mind, Miss Benson, that perhaps Mr. Stabler is looking for someone to frame for a crime he committed?"

Olivia shook her head firmly. "No. No matter what Elliot thought about what went on between Chad and I, he would never kill anyone."

"Pardon me if I don't believe you. After all, you are so impartial. " The sarcasm that dripped from his words set Olivia's teeth on edge, and she tensed angrily.

"Am I being charged with something?" Olivia stood up suddenly, irritated. Maduro's eyes burned into her as he shook his head almost imperceptibly in response to her question. "Of course I'm not. You have no proof." Olivia turned and headed toward the office door. At the last second she paused, her hand resting on the door frame lightly. Slowly, she turned and glanced at Maduro again, sighing deeply.

"Look, there are a lot of people who had reason to want Chad Roundhouse dead. He wasn't exactly popular around the island. He lured a lot of young women away from their families and this island with the promise of fame. Beloved wives, daughters, and sisters that never came back." When Maduro finally looked at her, she smiled sympathetically. "That's motive Inspector. A strong one."

* * *

The halls were deserted when Olivia strolled back toward her room, mind whirling. She was starting to feel stiff, her body reliving some of the ravages from the night before. Her stomach was also protesting, growling loudly, even though it hadn't been that long since she ate. Unfortunately for her, all of the resort's restaurants appeared packed with people as she walked past. It was as if everyone in the resort had decided simultaneously to refuel after a busy day. If Olivia and Elliot went to eat now, they would have to wait forever to get a seat. Or they would be forced to sit with other people, again. Room service suddenly sounded like a much better idea, and probably quicker. She could crawl into her pajamas, open the French doors to let in some fresh ocean breeze, and then curl up in bed with Elliot, work on strengthening their relationship again.

The light was fading slowly as Olivia slipped the keycard into the door lock, pushing it open when the green light signaled the card's acceptance. The room was coated in shadow when she entered, stretching and yawning widely. From the quiet of the room, she assumed Elliot was still out talking to his mystery informant. She was about to pull her shirt over her head, her hands dropping down to grasp the hem, when she caught sight of the other white keycard, sitting mutely on the small dresser.

Her intuition screamed at her that something was wrong. Very wrong.

Taking three steps forward, Olivia moved into the sleeping area of the room, eyes scanning the space rapidly. When she turned her gaze to the large gap between the bathroom wall and the bed, she saw a scene that instantly brought tears to her eyes.

Elliot sat in the desk chair, eyes wide and white, hands bound behind the chair, a piece of shiny silver duct tape covering his beautiful, expressive mouth. His shoulders heaved and his nostrils flared as he struggled to take in air around the tape. Blood caked the left side of his face, leaking from the corner of his eye down into the crevices of his skin, forming a forking river that dripped off his strong jaw in three places and stained the shoulder of his t-shirt. When she was able to tear her eyes from the flowing blood, she noticed an unnatural metal extension from his left temple - the shiny barrel of a revolver pressing so hard into his flesh that she could see his soft pink skin wrinkling around it.

Olivia took a step toward him, but Elliot's frantic head shaking stopped her in her tracks. Eyes wide, she followed the barrel of the revolver up to the hand that held it before travelling over the attached arm and shoulder, finally settling on the face of Elliot's captor. When it registered, shock rocked her to the core. It was a familiar face, but not one she had thought of since the moment she last saw it.

"Carlos ." Her voice came out ragged and she cleared her throat, slowly raising her hands to signal surrender, letting him know she would not make any sudden moves. Carlos, the young host from the restaurant, the polite boy she had thought to be barely in his teens, stood motionless, both hands holding the gun firmly to Elliot's temple, his eyes on Olivia. Sweat dripped down his face and slid over the cords of his neck, which strained against his taunt skin. In the dying light he looked older and far more dangerous than the young boy who had handed her a rose and offered her his arm two days ago. There was an anger there that radiated from his very being, an anger that frightened Olivia because it was directed at the love of her life, trapped helplessly in the chair.

That anger kept his hands steady as his thumb cocked the revolver's hammer.

"Carlos, what are you doing?" Olivia blurted out the words as she took a step forward, holding out her hands submissively.

Ignoring the question, Carlos pressed the barrel harder into Elliot's temple. Making a noise that closely resembled a whimper through the duct tape, Elliot winced in pain. "Take one more step either way and I'll shoot him." Carlos' voice sounded young but treacherous, and Olivia opted not to test him. She held her hands back up again, mind racing frantically. She had to stall him. Help wasn't on the way, but experience taught her that the longer she stalled, the more likely she would be able to turn the tables in her favor. At the moment, her mind was completely and hopelessly blank. She needed time to think.

"Okay, okay. I'll do whatever you say. You're in charge here Carlos."

Olivia tried desperately to emotionally distance herself from the situation. She had to pretend it was another victim, anyone other than Elliot, in that chair. Only then would she be able to think clearly, to form a plan of attack. "Point the gun away from his head Carlos, and we can talk. We can work this out. Get you what you need."

"He was asking questions." Ignoring Olivia's pleas, Carlos' eyes turned to Elliot, his fingers white as he grasped the gun tightly. "He was talking to my sister, asking questions." There was a madness dancing on his face as he spoke that made Olivia decidedly uneasy. "Questions he should not have been asking."

"What questions Carlos?" Olivia kept her voice soft and level even though her heart pounded and her chest heaved. She altered her gaze between Carlos' face and Elliot's, whose eyes never left her.

"About what happened that night. He knew. Knew what they had been doing. He was getting too close to the truth."

"What had they been doing?" Olivia shuffled forward a tiny bit, trying to get closer to the two men. If she could close the distance, maybe she could knock the gun away before Carlos could get a shot off.

"He was going to take her away," Carlos barked suddenly, his hands starting to shake. Olivia could sense his control was weakening, not good news for Elliot. People out of control could not be reasoned with, and Elliot knew it. Olivia could see Elliot's wrists twisting furiously as he tried to free himself from the tape that rendered him helpless.

"You are talking about Chad Roundhouse, right Carlos? Who was he going to take away?" Olivia kept talking, trying desperately to distract Carlos before he noticed Elliot struggling to free himself.

"My sister!" Carlos' angry outburst reverberated in the quiet room and he thrust the gun forward violently, earning a muffled cry of pain from Elliot. "He was going to take her away, like he did with my other sisters."

Slowly, things began to fall into place in Olivia's mind and her throat went dry. Mentally, she flashed back to that tiny house at the end of a dead end street, overrun by weeds and sadness.

"Your last name is Geerman. Carlos Geerman." Olivia again shuffled forward, lowering her arms slightly as her shoulders began trembling and protesting violently.

Carlos ignored her, twisting the barrel of the gun slowly, his chest heaving with weighty breaths. In the dying amber light, his face was distorted by shadows. Olivia knew time was running out.

"If she had gone with him, it would have destroyed my mother. She has already suffered enough." Carlos' voice was encrusted with barely contained rage. As he twisted the gun barrel again, Elliot's eyes closed reflexively and Olivia inched closer. She was probably four feet away, but it felt like miles. If he pulled the trigger, she wouldn't get there in enough time to push the barrel away from Elliot's head.

"He was supposed to take you." Carlos' voice was almost a whisper. Olivia wasn't sure she had even heard him correctly until he continued. "It was supposed to be you he took instead. He flirted with my sister the night before. I saw them. But when I saw you I thought, maybe, he would be more interested in you instead. So I sat him at your table. Pushed you into him at the bar. It would have worked." Carlos shook his head sadly. "But you wouldn't go for it. So I had to do something."

"You were protecting your family Carlos. I understand."

"You don't understand," he snapped angrily. Inwardly, Olivia cursed her weak hostage negotiation skills. She wasn't doing Elliot any favors. Carlos' agitation level was visibly rising, and quickly. "You don't know what it's like to watch helplessly as your family falls apart."

Carlos turned his attention to Elliot, but his words were directed at Olivia. "I saw you throw away his key. And I was smart. I put on gloves to take it out of the trash, and made sure I put it back in the exact garbage can I took it from." Carlos looked back at Olivia intently, as if desperate for approval, before continuing his story.

"I saw my sister go to his room with him after her shift. I waited in the hall until she left, then I let myself into their room. I had to do something. If I didn't, she would leave with him, and my mother would die inside." Carlos' voice broke but the resolve on his face was steadfast. "I had a gun, but I was nervous. He tricked me, and knocked the gun out of my hand. So I grabbed the golf club out of his bag. And I hit him. And I hit her. I hit them both. I hit them hard." His voice turning steely again, Carlos raised his eyes to meet Olivia's. "But I'm not nervous this time."

Olivia swallowed hard, fighting back a scream as she saw his finger tighten slightly on the trigger. Frantically, she made a last ditch attempt at reason.

"Carlos, if you do this, you will destroy your family anyway, just like Chad would have. You will go to jail, and your mother will lose a son instead of a daughter. If you put the gun down and turn yourself in, people will be sympathetic. You have been through a lot because of Chad. But Elliot is innocent. He never hurt your family. If you hurt him, no one will feel sorry for you anymore. They will see you as nothing but a cold-blooded murderer."

For a brief instant, something flickered in Carlos' eyes and Olivia felt a flash of hope. Maybe, against all odds, she had reached him.

That hope was dashed when Carlos shook his head slowly. "No. You're right, I can't go to jail. It would dishonor my family. I can shoot your boyfriend, and then I can shoot you. And I can make it look like he shot you, and then shot himself. The police already think you are guilty."

"Carlos, it's not that easy." Hardening her voice, Olivia tried to instill some fear and uncertainty into the youth. "People get caught all the time when they try to make a murder look like a suicide. Bullet trajectory, blood splatters, they are all giveaways. You wouldn't do it right, and they would catch you."

For a fleeting moment, a wisp of doubt curled in Carlos' eyes, but it dissipated almost as quickly as it had appeared and resolve took its place once more.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way." Carlos snapped his head back around to face Elliot, his eyes hard, his finger tightening on the trigger. When Elliot heard the telltale click of a bullet moving from the chamber to the cusp of the barrel, he closed his eyes and prayed.

"Don't!" Olivia's plea was followed immediately by a flurry of knocking on the room's door, startling all three occupants. That distraction was all Olivia needed. She flung herself at Carlos, knocking his arm away from Elliot just as he reflexively squeezed the trigger. The gun discharged, the bullet firmly lodging itself in the wall to the right of Elliot's ear. A chunk of plaster fell in response, sprinkling the flooring with a fine white powder.

As they tumbled to the floor, Olivia grabbed Carlos' wrist and smashed it against the night table. He cried out in pain as his hand opened reactively and the gun skidded to the carpet. The lamp on the night table teetered precariously before crashing heavily onto them as they struggled, Carlos' youth and strength battling with Olivia's skills and experience.

Just as Carlos caught Olivia with an elbow to the side of the face that had her seeing stars, the room door crashed open and Maduro rushed in, gun drawn, eyes assessing the scene. With four long strides, he was across the room, brushing past Elliot and throwing himself into the melee on the floor. Within seconds Maduro and Olivia had flipped Carlos onto his stomach expertly, Olivia pinning his hands behind his back as Maduro snapped on the cuffs.

Breathing heavily, the taste of rusty blood in her mouth, Olivia stumbled to her feet.

"El," she whispered, sidling over to him quickly and gently removing the duct tape that covered his mouth. Able to breathe easier, Elliot's shoulders sagged and his body went limp with relief as Olivia hugged him tightly. No one spoke for a moment as Maduro dragged Carlos to his feet. Tears streamed down the young boy's face as he sobbed quietly, his eyes downcast and devastated. The picture of a young life in ruins.

It was Elliot who found his voice first.

"Finally, Maduro," he rasped breathlessly, his soft eyes never leaving Olivia's face as he spoke. "For once, your timing is impeccable."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. One more chapter to go, a nice fluffy one to wrap the story up. Any ideas or suggestions for a romantic "last day of vacation" date for El and Liv would be most welcome.


	17. A Moment to Remember

**Chapter 17 – A Moment to Remember**

_June 2, 2010 3:27 pm_

"Not to sound skeptical, but are you _sure_ you know what you're doing?"

The day had dawned early, with brilliant blue skies that smiled down on crystal clear waters, and Mother Nature had amiably followed suit in the afternoon. Miles away from the Aruban shore, Olivia stood barefoot on the glistening wooden deck of their rented Sabre 426 sailboat, a bemused expression on her face as she watched Elliot struggle to lower the anchor. A soft wind ruffled the sails, the cream canvas flapping quietly in the breeze. Beneath the hull, the ocean rocked gently, lapping languorously against the fiberglass. The water was virtually transparent and, when she glanced over the rail of the boat, Olivia could almost make out the sandy bottom, miles down.

The mid-afternoon sun warmed her now golden brown skin as the ocean breeze simultaneously cooled it, sending pleasant shivers of contrast up her spine. The fringed edge of her bathing suit cover up tickled her legs as she watched Elliot fumble with the anchor line, sweat shining on his arms and staining a dark line down his spine through his grey muscle shirt.

"I know _exactly_ what I'm doing," Elliot grumbled. True to his word, he did manage to drop the anchor a few more feet before pinching his finger in the line and cursing loudly. "Dammit!" Swiping at his sweaty forehead with his forearm, he stepped back and glared at the offending anchor.

Smiling at him affectionately, Olivia leaned against the rail and pushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes that had been liberated from her ponytail by the breeze. "I could help you know." Nursing his sore finger, Elliot waved her away, and she could tell from the set of his jaw there was no point in arguing.

"Even after all these years, I had no idea that you had your boating license." As Elliot took another stab at the anchor, Olivia sat down on the padded bench that occupied the stern. The muscles in Elliot's arms rippled as he fiddled with the chain, and she found herself admiring the view on several levels.

"My dad took me boating sometimes on vacation at the Cape. As soon as I was old enough, he taught me how to operate a motorboat and captain a sailboat. He felt all men should know how. In all honesty, I haven't had a lot of use for the license until now. I used it now and again to take my kids out on the water on our rare vacations. It's been a while, but it's all coming back to me."

Wiping the sweat off his chin with the neck of his shirt, Elliot straightened and turned to smirk at her. "Look, this will probably be easier if I don't feel so . . . scrutinized. Do me a favor? Go hang out on the bow for a bit until I tell you it's safe to come back?"

Shaking her head with a grin, Olivia stood and did as requested, her bare feet softly padding on the smooth wood of the deck. Leaning against the bow railing, she gazed out over the water, the light so blinding she had to squint even through her sunglasses. She eagerly took in the beautiful scenery using all of her senses. The cool breeze mixing with the warm sun, the smell of salty water, the open expanse of the ocean spreading out as far as the eye could see. Occasionally, she would catch sight of a small moving dot on the horizon, another boat cutting quickly through the water, but for the most part, their sailboat stood alone as it bobbed merrily in the water.

Closing her eyes, Olivia tried to memorize it all, painfully aware that today was their last day in paradise. Tomorrow at this time they would be back on an airplane, returning to the smog and hazy sunshine of the city and the depravity of their jobs. Earlier in the week, she had wondered if they would get off the island in one piece. Now she wished she didn't have to leave.

After the harrowing events in their resort room, Carlos was arrested, Maduro had grudgingly apologized, and Elliot and Olivia finally had the chance to enjoy their vacation. The remainder of the week had been wonderful. The weather was beautiful, the resort graciously upgraded them to a nicer suite that overlooked the beach and had a hot tub, and they actually had the opportunity to relax and enjoy each other's company. It had been romantic and refreshing. With each passing day, Olivia felt her relationship with Elliot grow stronger than she ever thought possible. When Elliot announced he had rented a boat to give them some true "alone time" on their last day, she had completely melted.

Behind her, Olivia could hear Elliot still rustling around and grumbling, but she kept her promise to remain facing forward. She grinned to herself when she heard the anchor chain click into place and Elliot's consequent grunt of satisfaction. He was a proud, stubborn man, and she loved him with all her heart.

After a few more minutes of shuffling and banging, Olivia heard footsteps approaching but she didn't turn. Seconds later, his warm, strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him, his fit chest heating her to an even greater extent than the sun. Leaning back against him, she rested her hands on his and lay her head on his shoulder. In response, he nuzzled her ear affectionately before dropping a kiss on her temple.

"This is so amazing El. Thank you. I can't get over how beautiful it is out here." Olivia closed her eyes beneath her sunglasses, letting her fingers brush over his ropy hands and knuckles.

"It sure is striking," Elliot agreed, pulling his eyes from her face to look out over the glimmering water. Straightening up, Olivia turned in his arms to face him, leaning back against the warm metal railing. Her eyes travelled over his face before dropping to his inner forearm, where her fingertips traced his tattoo gently, noting each line, each break, each curve. After a moment, her fingers and eyes travelled up to the tattoo on his shoulder and repeated their exploration. She could hear his breath hitch, his eyes never leaving her face. Slowly she leaned in, nuzzling his chin and brushing her lips over the corners of his mouth before kissing him softly. His arms tightened reflexively around her, pulling her closer as they made out slowly.

Usually Olivia was the first to break a kiss, but this time he withdrew, backing up slightly and smiling at her.

"C'mere. I want to show you something." Gently Elliot took her hand and led her back to the stern. As they rounded a soft corner, Olivia's breath caught in her throat. Apparently the anchor wasn't the only thing he was fiddling with while she stared thoughtfully over the ocean. Spread out on the deck was a checkered blanket, held still on its four corners by four weighted pillows. Beside the blanket sat a small wicker picnic basket with several sandwiches and an assortment of tropical fruit peeking out. Beside the basket sat a shiny silver bucket full of ice, the neck of a champagne bottle protruding. As the ice melted in the sun, so did Olivia's knees.

"El . . ." Olivia murmured, touched. "Wow."

"You like?" Elliot couldn't hide his pleased smile.

"It's too much. How did you pull all this together?"

"Well I got the connections for the boat from Erroll. I picked up the rest of the stuff yesterday when you lay down for a nap in the afternoon."

"Sneaky." Olivia squeezed Elliot's hand gently and walked over to the blanket, laying down and stretching out. He joined her quickly, sitting down cross-legged beside her. Grabbing the champagne flutes and popping the cork on the bottle, he poured out two glasses. Handing her a glass, he lay beside her, his eyes always on her face. Tentatively, he reached over and undid the tie on her swimsuit cover up, pushing the material away and revealing her tanned body and sexy bathing suit. He felt himself respond to her physically as she ran her toes up his calf, but he had other business first.

"Well, this was really important to me. I wanted this to be something you'd remember."

Olivia laughed heartily. "You didn't need to rent a boat for that! This was certainly a vacation I will never, ever forget."

Elliot grinned ruefully. "It isn't so much so you remember the vacation. I know we will both remember the last week for the rest of our days. The good and the bad. It's more that I wanted to make this exact moment special, a moment to remember." As Olivia frowned questioningly, Elliot slowly leaned in, kissing her cheek. "I love you Olivia."

Olivia's heart flipped in her chest and she felt warmth overcome her unlike anything she had ever experienced before. His amazing blue eyes were soft but crisp as he gazed into her dark ones, which had just begun to swim with happy tears.

"I love you too El." Reaching out, she cupped his cheek and pulled him to her for a soft kiss. Her mouth melded to his as he pressed her down into the blanket, the warm softness akin to heaven against her back. She never, ever remembered feeling so happy, so complete. In that moment, her mother's haunting voice grew silent.

This time Olivia broke the kiss and lay back on the blanket, arms over her head submissively, her eyes glinting mischievously. "You've heard of the "mile high" club, right?"

Elliot grinned down at her, letting a hand rest firmly on her thigh. "Yeah."

Smirking, she reached up and kissed along his collarbone playfully. "Want to join the "mile out" club?"

* * *

Hours later, the sun dipped lower as they sat together on the deck, having returned from the stern to the bow again. The wind had died considerably, ebbing with the fading sun. Elliot sat propped up against the curve of the cabin and Olivia sat between his legs, her body wrapped in the blanket, hairline still damp with sweat. Her head rested against his chest and her forehead nudged his chin. They held hands, fingers intertwined, silent for the longest time.

Olivia broke the quiet while craning her neck and looking up at Elliot.

"So . . . how many drawers are you willing to give up for me in your bureau?" she murmured, smooching the spot where his neck met his jaw.

Elliot felt his stomach flutter excitedly, but kept composed. "I don't know. How many do you think you need?"

"At least half of them. "

"Half?! Good Lord!"

"Hey! I am a woman after all. You're a guy. How much stuff can you possibly have to need all those drawers? Oh yeah, and I will need closet space too."

Elliot chuckled quietly. "I'm sure with some rearranging I can give you as much space as you need." He stroked her hair softly and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. When she fell silent again, he wondered fleetingly if she had been joking. Driven to know for certain, he found himself asking the question he hoped he already had the answer to.

"So, this mean you are going to take me up on the moving in offer?"

Olivia smiled sweetly, closing her eyes peacefully. "Yeah. I'll give my notice tomorrow as soon as we get home."

Elliot grinned happily, feeling like a million dollars inside. "I'm glad Liv. It's a good decision. We will make it work."

Olivia snuggled back into him, feeling content and safe. "I think so too. Besides, who else would put up with ya?"

* * *

END

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed "Retreat"! Your positive comments and enthusiasm for the story kept me going.


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